Point of Evil
by CorieHall
Summary: Sam and Dean take a case for Bobby in Michigan. Sam has issues focusing on the case because as far as he's concerned, there's bigger fish to fry. And as always, nothing ever goes as planned. Hurt!Sam later. Takes place directly after 3x10.
1. Kids

**Title:** Point of Evil

**Genre:** Adventure/Angst/Hurt-Comfort

**Rating:** T for language, minor violence, torture.

**Summary:** Sam and Dean take a case for Bobby in Michigan. Sam has issues focusing on the case because as far as he's concerned, there's bigger fish to fry. There's some serious hurt!Sam down the road. Takes place directly after 3x10 so there will be spoilers for that episode as well as 2x21-2 and mentions of a few others.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural or its characters. I am not profiting in any way from this work. All original characters are mine.

AN: Hello readers. Welcome to my very first piece of Supernatural fan fiction! The entire thing is written so the update schedule just depends on when I'm near my computer, which when I'm home is all the time. I know, it's sad. Anyway, I'm thinking once a week, probably Sunday or Monday nights. It's somewhere around 18 chapters but if there's interest in the 'B story' that runs through it (you'll see it starting in Chapter 2), I'm prepared to write a sequel.

Also, side note, thanks to my gal pal Staci for proofreading this monster of a story after I finished. She's a trooper. Any mistakes are mine. Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1: Kids<strong>

The trees swayed gently back and forth in the cold winter air as three teens made their way through the woods.

"How close are we?" asked a boy holding a bright LED flashlight. "We need to head back soon, Parker."

"Oh, come on. Let's just get this last one," replied the second boy. He glanced down at his smart phone. "It says we're 45 meters from ground zero and closing. That's not very far. And it's an ammo box. We should have no problem finding it."

"Seriously, I can't miss my curfew. I just got my license, my parents will kill me."

"Did you guys hear that?" The girl, who had been ignoring the banter and blindly following her hiking mates suddenly stopped and panned her flashlight in a 360 degree circle.

"What now, Paige? You think the Melonheads are gonna get you?"

She pushed her brother playfully. "Shut up. That's not funny."

Without warning, six creatures appeared around them, leaving no room for escape. Paige let out a shrill scream but it went unheard by anyone able to offer help.

* * *

><p>"The next time I see Bela Talbot, I swear to God I'm gonna steal back the Colt and then shoot her with it," Dean said jokingly, or at least Sam thought so, as he sat on the tattered bar stool with a huff.<p>

"I hear that," Sam replied, joining him and holding up two fingers to the bartender with a nod. "Hopefully Bobby can help us track her down soon." He paused, frowning slightly. "That is, if he ever gets over the fact that we lost it in the first place," he said, looking down like a scolded puppy remembering the freak out Bobby had when he realized Bela had stolen the Colt on their watch. "Where to next? Do we have any leads at all on where she might be?"

Dean shrugged. "Don't know. Maybe you should do your research magic and scrape us up something."

"Why do I always have to do the research or find the case?" Sam asked, offended. Though he knew he was usually considered the brains of the operation, the monotony of the job sometimes got boring. It could definitely use some spicing up.

"Uh no, I don't think so, hot shot. Don't even go there. You don't always find the case. Remember that big hunch I had? The one on the Hell Hazers 2 set? Yeah, that was all me."

"You only wanted to go because it was Los Angeles and you wanted a vacation. Not to mention you weren't even interested in the case until you found out about that Tara Benchley chick being in the movie."

"But I was right, wasn't I? And I'd say that one turned out quite well." Dean sat, reminiscing about his time spent as a P.A. "And then there was the power saw guy in Cicero-"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Do I even need to tell you why that one doesn't count, Pokey?"

Dean thought back to Lisa and Ben, allowing his façade to falter for just a moment before shaking his head. "Well either way, you're like the internet search guru or whatever."

"Fine. I wanna find Bela as much as you do but after all the crap we've gone through this week, I really need a break. I'll work on finding Bela first thing tomorrow," Sam replied, cracking a smile. After the African Dream Root debacle, he was greatly looking forward to a good night's sleep, one in which he didn't have to spend fearing for his life.

Suddenly, Dean's phone rang. With barely a glance at the caller ID, he answered it. "Wow, your ears must have been ringing," he said, leaning back against the bar.

Sam thought it was odd that Bobby would be calling so soon after leaving Pittsburgh and listened as Dean talked for a couple of minutes hoping to get a clue as to what was so important. What Sam was really hoping for was a tip on the thief's whereabouts. As much as he wanted a break, a large part of Dean's fate depended on them finding the valuable weapon.

Dean continued to make a few 'uh huh's' and 'hmmms' before finally finishing it all off with a 'no kidding, we'll leave in the morning'.

"What was that all about?" Sam asked as Dean ended the call on his cell phone.

"Bobby. He says he's got a case for us out in Michigan to keep us tied over until we hear something about Bela."

"Nowhere near Ypsilanti, I hope," Sam said, a shiver and a sudden twinge of phantom pain erupting in his right index finger. "That place was ridiculous and I'd rather not go back anytime soon."

"Not quite. We're headed to Saugatuck. It's on the other side of the state." Dean paused and then allowed his trademark smirk to light up his face. Holding up his right hand, Dean pointed to the space about two inches below the base of his pinky. "See?"

Sam rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed.

"What? You have to admit that's pretty cool. You can't do that with any other state!" Seeing no reaction from Sam, Dean sighed. "You take the fun out of everything."

Sam continued to stare, waiting for the point of Dean's speech.

"They've had some people disappearing recently and the word from the locals is that it might have something to do with an old legend from the area."

"What kind of legend?"

"Melonheads," Dean said, simply.

"Come again?"

"Melonheads. I know, sounds made up, right? I thought the same thing. There's a bit of variance between versions of it, but it's your typical 'mad man's victims get revenge' type of story. Crazy guy named Dr. Crowe was experimenting on children who escape and decide to get revenge by attacking and eating any human they come into contact with. And just in the past two weeks, five people have disappeared from the nearby wooded areas: two adults and three teenagers. The wife of one of the men was with him when they were attacked but got away before they could take her. She swears that it was the Melonheads that attacked her and her husband."

"And then name 'Melonheads'?"

"The kids had a ton of fluid in their heads which made them all obnoxiously big and … fluidy -"

"Like … a melon," Sam said, raising an eyebrow and looking at Dean for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. "Well, it definitely sounds like our kind of case."

"Oh, and you know how much I just love kids," Dean replied, sarcastically.

Sam gave an eye roll and took a big swig of his beer. "Yeah, you're babysitter material for sure."

Dean and Sam had their customary post-hunt drinks and then returned to their 'shady hotel of the week' to get some sleep.

Both boys slept in later that morning than they probably should have, happy that they could finally rest. Trying like hell to stay up and then fighting for their lives once they had fallen asleep had certainly tired them out. But a case was a case and Dean did not want to hear the lecture they would be guaranteed from a seething Bobby if they didn't make it to Michigan by that night.

Dean rolled over and tried to adjust his eyes after hearing his brother moving around. The bright sunlight coming through the open curtains was enough to drive him insane – and he'd only had two beers the night before.

Sam – the go-getter he was – was already done with his shower and in the middle of packing his bag.

"How are you able to be awake this early?" Dean moaned, pulling the pillow back over his head.

"Dean, it's ten-o-clock. It's hardly early."

"Says you," he replied bitterly.

"We need to do laundry soon," Sam said, ignoring Dean and forcing the last t-shirt into his bag.

Dean managed to sit up and glance and the black trash bag holding their dirty clothes and then looked to his duffel sitting on the floor.

"Nah, I've still got a few pairs of boxers left."

Sam merely shook his head and finished zipping his backpack.

They gathered their bags and made one last check of the hotel room to ensure nothing was left behind. It was their father's marine teachings that enabled them to travel so lightly and never leave anything behind. Most people probably wouldn't be able to survive a week in the Winchester lifestyle, but they had grown up with it. Sure, it was maybe a little bizarre to the outsider, but for Sam and Dean, it was life.

It was a bit of a long drive from Pennsylvania after the week they'd just had, but Dean didn't mind so much. The winding roads that took them towards the American Midwest sang to Dean like his favorite classic rock song. Every bump in the road felt by the Impala's driver was a comfort rather than an annoyance. With the possibility of his last year on earth coming quickly to a close, Dean appreciated any time he could spend driving his baby and listening to his best hits on cassette. He knew there was a chance he would have to soon give that up and was slowly coming to terms with the fact – allowing Sam under the hood of the Impala was a big start.

Dean looked over at his little brother sleeping in the passenger seat. He felt guilty that he might end up having to leave Sam alone and Sam's accusation of Dean being selfish certainly hurt, but Dean wanted nothing more than to see Sam live a long, happy life.

When he was young, Sam's passion for school, sports, and normalcy was a royal pain in the ass but now Dean felt Sam deserved all that apple pie crap more than anyone else. Hell, Sam was a smart kid, he had to be meant for something more than chasing down and gankin' supernatural freaks. And damn, he was one stubborn kid. He would have made a great lawyer.

But one thing was for sure, Dean wasn't going to go down without a fight. He may not have wanted, or even been able, to fully explain to Sam what happened when he was confronted by his subconscious, but he knew that it was a sign he needed to fight. He'd worked way too damn hard in this life to throw it all away on a deal with a scumbag crossroads demon.

Dean remembered how he'd felt after he realized his Dad sacrificed himself to save his life. He remembered the guilt, the anger, the frustration. But now that he had done nearly the same thing for his brother, he realized the significance, the love, and the importance of making such a life altering decision. What Dean did was maybe a little rash, but the intentions behind it were solid. Regardless, the important thing now was to focus on keeping together the dream team that was him and his little brother.

A few hours, crappy diners, and shady gas stations later, Dean turned into the Arrowhead Motel parking lot. It looked commonplace, like all the other motels they stayed at. Just a simple, cable TV, free Wi-Fi, place to sleep. Climbing out of the car, he studied the area, taking in every detail of his surroundings. He peered up briefly at the motel sign, with its flashing, orange 'vacancy' light and the strategically placed lamps in the parking lot that lit up the hotel well enough to hold back the blackness of the night that surrounded it. Dean shook his head at the big, yellow hat wearing, plastic brown bear smiling down at him. He could already guess the outlandish décor of the motel room.

The office had more of the same – fake bears, singing fish, and the mounted head of a ten point buck. The garishly painted walls were enough to make him want to gag. Rolling his eyes, he approached the desk and rang the bell. Dean understood the whole 'being one with nature' concept and showing off your hunting skills, but he didn't understand how mounting dead animals on the wall was an acceptable example of those things. It really just ended up giving him the creeps. He and Sam never had the urge to mount the head of a vamp, not that they had a home to do it in, but that was beside the point.

Dean was just about to tap the bell a second time when a woman with age-revealing wrinkles came out from the back room. She was wearing an annoyingly bright, broad smile and a pale green nightgown that looked a size too small for her large frame. Her salt-and-pepper hair was nearly tucked into a head scarf which was patterned with bright flowers that didn't even come close to matching her nightgown.

"Hey there, honey, what can I do for you?"

Dean smiled at her misplaced southern accent and pulled an AmEx card from his wallet, plopping it on the counter. "I need a room for me and my brother."

"No problem. How many nights?" she asked, writing his information in a traditional style log book.

"Not really sure yet. We're thinking about sightseeing for a few days."

The woman's face faulted for a split second before the smile reappeared. Dean assumed it was because she knew about the missing locals. He wasn't surprised at all that she didn't mention anything to him – that would drive away business, of course. And in a nowhereville place like this, travelers needing hotels were hard to come by, you had to take whatever you could get.

"Alrighty, then. You'll be in room twelve with two queens." Turning to the board behind her, she picked up a set of keys with a fish keychain dangling from it. "Here you go." She then pointed to a wall of colorful pamphlets that read, 'Horseback Riding in Silver Creek Park' and 'Old Allegan Canoe Rentals'. "You can find information on some of the best 'touristy' stuff the area has to offer there. Enjoy your stay, Mr. Lampen, and be sure to call the front desk if you need anything."

Dean smiled back at her, pleased that he happened to grab a credit card that had a somewhat normal last name attached to it. He was often shocked at the names he got away with. Then again, with these small town motels, all they really cared about was getting enough business to keep the place going and if that meant charging some fishy credit cards, so be it.

Heading back out to the Impala, Dean noticed Sam still fast asleep, with his face mashed against the passenger side window. He smiled and used his phone to snap a quick picture before pounding his fist on the window.

Sam gasped loudly and jerked his head upwards. Dean jumped back, slightly startled by Sam's reaction, though he'd never admit it.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, it's just me. Damn, you okay?"

Sam nodded, not yet ready to trust his voice. He took a deep breath and grasped the handle of the door. Sam shivered slightly as his warm skin came into contact with the freezing February air.

"Dreaming?" Dean asked with a smirk, grabbing both duffels out of the trunk, as well as Sam's backpack.

"Yeah, I guess," Sam replied after a few seconds of allowing his brain to clear out all of the fog. He stood up and grabbed his bags from Dean before following him to their 'home away from home' for the next few days.

The motel room was just as Dean suspected, complete with an 'I'd rather be fishing' sign hanging on the wall between the two beds and various 'outdoorsy' accoutrements placed, not at all sparingly, on the other walls. The comforters on each bed were puke-green and stitched together gold thread. A matching wing-back chair sat in the corner beside the 22-inch television.

He collapsed on the bed closest to the door, making sure to claim it before Sam could. "Well, Sammy, I say we get some shut eye and start bright and early tomorrow."

Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean. Early mornings were a given when he was taking 8am classes at Stanford, but Dean had never been a morning person.

Dean understood what Sam was getting at and folded. "Okay, yeah, maybe we'll start around ten."

Sam smiled and gave a brief yawn. "That's more like it."

Sam was excited to get to sleep some more, and for that sleep to be in a motel bed, but what he didn't know was that his mind was about to take him hostage.

* * *

><p>AN2: Okay that's chapter one! I would love to read some reviews from you guys! And as usual, constructive criticism is ALWAYS welcome :) Thanks for reading!<p> 


	2. Research

AN: Thanks to everyone who reviewed and alerted this story! It always brightens my day. Our 'A story' is going to take a seat on the back burner for a chapter. Here is your heaping pile of 'B story'! Thanks for reading and feel free to offer comments or directions in the form of a tax deductible (not really) review!

For warnings or disclaimer, please see Chapter 1.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2: Research<strong>

Sleep had never sounded as good as it did the days following their adventure in Pittsburgh. Unfortunately, Sam's mind wasn't ready to give him a streak of peaceful slumbers just yet. That night, the moment his head hit the pillow, there was no turning back. He was transported into a world that was wholly unfamiliar and not the least bit comforting.

_Sam suddenly found himself in a building resembling an old, abandoned warehouse. It was quite dark and yet, he had no problem seeing. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!" The voice was coming from Sam's mouth, but for some strange reason, it didn't sound like him. Well, it was definitely his voice, but there was a husky-ness about it that just made it seem … inhuman._

_He wandered in the dark for a few moments, maneuvering around tall metal shelves and boxes. The room smelled musty and the air seemed thick with dust. Hearing a yell, he turned the corner and found his target … held up … by two demons. "Leaving so soon, Carl? Why don't you stay a while? Have a seat." Sam put his hand out in front of him and forced the man to his knees … with his mind._

"_What do you want with me?" the man, apparently named Carl, asked, breathing heavily as he tried to recover from his very brief sparring session with the demons. Blood was dripping from his nose like a leaky faucet. _

_Real-life Sam became confused as he witnessed the scene play out in front of him. The poor man's eyes weren't black. He was … human … and he was downright terrified._

"_Tell me where Calum is!"_

_The man in front of him cowered on the floor. The demons holding him captive consisted of one rather tall man with thick, muscular arms and an equally tall woman with her dark hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. They held menacing expressions; Sam didn't blame the man for being scared._

_Carl gave a confused look and shook his head. "Calum? I don't know! I swear! I haven't heard from him in at least two years! Please, please stop! I have kids, a family; p-please just let me go! I won't tell anyone about any of this! Just let me go home to my family!"_

_Sam twisted his fingers just as he had seen other demons do. The man's neck snapped with an echoing CRACK and the life immediately disappeared from his eyes. The room became deafeningly silent for a moment before the other two demons dropped the lifeless pile of meat to the floor with a 'thud' and stepped over it like a dead tree limb in the woods. _

"_Are you sure he didn't know where Calum was? I think if we had pursued it a little longer, we could have gotten more information," the woman offered cautiously. _

_Sam, but not Sam, shook his head. "He was useless. I'm pretty sure he would have said something after the first few minutes if he'd had anything to say. He was weak." Looking upon the dead man on the floor, Sam sighed and waved off the two demons. "Go find something to do; I have some personal things to take care of. I'll figure out our next step later."_

_The demons disappeared quickly and Sam turned to the wall. A fit of rage overcame him and he punched it as hard as he could._

_Suddenly, an intense pain took over dream-version Sam and threatened to take him down almost instantly. It felt as if someone had jammed a burning poker into his back. He fell to his knees, gritting his teeth and moaning. A few seconds later, his attacker came into view._

_Dean looked down upon his brother with a look of disgust. "Dad was right all along. This is something I should have done a long time ago." And with that, he jammed a knife, which by the looks of it, closely resembled Ruby's magic demon killing weapon, into the very vulnerable chest of Sam Winchester._

Sam woke with a start and gripped his chest, expecting to find blood.

"Man, what the hell?" Dean exclaimed.

Sam glanced down at his hand and found it clean, much to his relief. Once he was sure he was unharmed, he looked over to see Dean sitting up in his bed, his expression a look of shock and confusion. Unsure of what answer to give, Sam shrugged his shoulders.

"You were screaming. I mean, seriously, screaming in your sleep. Like – like The Exorcist or something."

Sam sat silently for a few moments, unsure of how to interpret the whole ordeal.

"Do you want to tell me what you were dreaming about that was so terrifying? Should I be worried? Was it part of your weird psychic thing? I thought those things stopped?" Dean asked, beginning to get concerned as his thought process became more and more complicated.

Part of Sam wanted to express his concerns to his brother, but he also didn't want to freak him out. "No, it was nothing. No psychic crap, no premonition. Just some stupid nonsense dream."

Dean stared at his brother, unsure of whether to trust him or not. Sam laid back down a second later and tried to go back to sleep. Dean figured, regardless of whether he was being honest or not, he wasn't going to get anything else out of him any time soon. Giving in to his heavy eyelids, he too laid down to get some sleep.

Eventually, the soft snores coming from Dean in the bed next to him lulled Sam into a sweet slumber.

The hours passed and it wasn't long before the sun was peaking in through the slit between the thick motel curtains. This time, it was Dean who was more than ready to take the morning on. The first one to the shower, he was dressed and ready before Sam even rolled out of bed.

"Come on, Sammy. Time to get ready to face the day," Dean said, pulling back the curtains allowing the blinding sun to infiltrate the motel room.

"What's wrong with you?" Sam asked, rubbing his eyes trying desperately to get them to clear. He wasn't sure if it was the content of the dream or the fact that he was dreaming so vividly, but Sam felt like he'd slept five minutes.

"I think the better question is what's wrong with _you_?" Dean laughed, but realized that Sam definitely wasn't ready for his sarcasm yet. "You feeling okay, Sam?" Dean knew that Sam's usual reaction to trouble was to try a little _too _hard to act normal, not spend half the day in bed. Maybe he was just tired after all.

Sam rolled slowly out of bed. "Yeah….yeah I'm fine," he replied, planting his feet on the floor and taking a few seconds to regain his bearings before walking to the sink. He splashed water over his face and glanced at Dean's reflection in the mirror to, unfortunately, find his brother still staring at him.

"You sure?"

Sam became slightly irritated. "Yeah, Dean. I said I'm fine."

"Geez, don't get your panties in a bunch, Samantha," Dean said, offended. "I was just looking out for my little brother."

Sam shook his head and then finished drying his face before looking at his brother. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine, whatever. You're just on your period or something, right? I understand."

And there was Dean's sarcasm, just like clockwork. It was something Sam could always count on, regardless of the situation.

"I'm gonna go get some breakfast and coffee," Dean said, grabbing the keys to the Impala. "I'll be back in a few."

"Dean, wait," Sam said, turning to face his brother.

"Yeah?" Dean wasn't sure he wanted to hear what Sam had to say. His chick-flick sense was tingling.

"I know you said that I wasn't gonna go dark side. I know you said you would save me first. But everyone else seems to think that I'm part of this evil master plan. What if Gordon and Kubrick were right? What if, even though I haven't done anything bad yet, they're just preventing me from doing something really bad in the future?"

"Sam, I already told you. It's gonna be fine. You're not gonna go dark side and I'm not gonna have to kill you. "

"Yeah but – "

"No, Sam, no buts about it. I don't know why we're even having this conversation. We've already talked about this. No person, no demon, no whatever can make you do anything you don't want to do. I know you would never choose something like that. Trust me, I'm gonna look out for you, just like I always have. No brother of mine is gonna go dark side, not on my watch. And if we continue having this chick-flick moment, I'm gonna need to take another shower to get the cooties off me."

Sam could tell that Dean was firmly against having these conversations so he gave a quiet 'okay' and tried to focus his attention on getting ready as his brother walked out the door.

Dean's speech didn't make him feel better about what he had seen. His dream didn't feel like a premonition, but he just couldn't ignore the nagging feeling deep in his stomach. With premonitions, Sam was like a kid observing the scene in a fishbowl. He gets bits and pieces of what he's supposed to see, but never the whole picture and never as clear as what he had just seen. What he saw the night before was different … he was _part _of it. He was the person doing those God-awful things to that man. Dream or not, the idea of him, Sam Winchester, doing something so … unconscionable to another human being was terrifying.

Sam remembered the day he was told that the yellow-eyed bastard bled into his mouth. The day that Azazel brought him back to show him his mother's death in a way that he couldn't have seen it as a six month old baby. The day he was told that demon blood ran through his veins. _'Better than mother's milk'_, he remembered him saying. But Dean didn't know about any of that, Sam had chosen not to tell him. So as much as he wanted to take comfort in Dean's assurances, he couldn't. Dean didn't have the whole story. But it was probably best that things stayed that way. If he didn't watch his choice of words, he was going to have an unrelenting force, in the form of a very worried brother, trying to break down the wall he had worked so hard to build.

After Sam found out that Dean sold his soul to bring him back from the dead, he vowed to never allow Azazel's actions to ever affect him – he owed Dean that much. Not to mention, he was too good to go dark-side. He was supposed to be the benevolent one. But after that dream … or vision … or whatever it was, he suddenly wasn't so sure.

'You sure that didn't have anything to do with your psychic thing?' The words Bobby said after their dream walking adventure echoed in his mind. It wasn't possible. Azazel was gone. Forever. No plan, no destiny. But if that was true, why did Sam feel so sick inside?

Then, of course, there was the question of whether this Calum guy really existed and, if he did, what reason would Sam possibly have to hunt him down? Was he a demon? Was it possible that Ruby would know who he was?

Sam glanced at the clock and realized how much time he had just wasted. He hurried and refocused on the task of getting ready.

Getting in the shower, Sam let the steaming hot spray run over his body. The water was relaxing and had the intended effect of temporarily calming his mind.

Dean returned minutes later and heard the shower still running. He shook his head. There was definitely something wrong with Sam. The random question and answer session proved that much. Finding out _what_ was going to be the problem. Sam was usually the first to start the real chick-flick moments, bullshit vague questions aside, except in cases where the situation directly involved him.

Dean heard the shower shut off and sat down with his coffee, breakfast burrito, and newspaper. He flipped through the pages checking for new developments regarding the Melonheads during their trip over there.

"Wow, gas station breakfast burritos? What's the occasion?"

Dean looked up to see Sam, just stepping out of the bathroom. Dean was slightly relieved that Sam was back to joking around again. "Well, I figured we needed to have our Wheaties if we were gonna get these things."

"And by Wheaties, you mean breakfast burritos?"

Dean rolled his eyes at Sam and looked back down at the paper. "Nothing showed up overnight about any more missing people."

"Well, I guess that could mean one of two things; either they're satisfied for the time being, or they're freaking pissed they didn't find anyone to eat last night. I'm sure the cops have been telling people to stay out of the woods so the food supply is probably down."

"Peachy," Dean replied, sarcastically.

"So who are we today, oh master of disguise?" Sam asked, smiling.

Dean opened his duffel and pulled out a pair of badges.

Sam glanced over them and looked wearily at his brother. "Conservation Officers? Seriously?"

Dean was offended that his brother would dare question his skills. "Uh, yeah. They're like the state cops of the woods. These badges will get us anything we could ever want."

"Well they're definitely a step up from 'Bikini Inspector'," Sam said, still amazed he ever got away with that one. "And a tad less illegal than Homeland Security. As long as they work, I guess it doesn't matter. So where do you wanna start?"

"Well, we need to get information on the original lore, see if we can find any facts to back it up, talk to the lone survivor at the hospital, and check out the scenes of each attack. Oh, and we need to talk to the sheriff. He should have all the info we need on the disappearances."

"Did you check Dad's journal to see if he had anything on this?"

"Of course I did, Sam. What do you take me for? An idiot?" Dean was joking but there was no laugh from Sam. _God, he can be such a tight ass sometimes_. "There was nothing."

"Okay then. I guess we should see what kind of research we can get done first."

Dean groaned and grabbed his bag off the table. "It's always the research first. All work and no play makes Dean a dull boy." Dean mustered up the biggest frown he could and stared at Sam with his best impression of puppy dog eyes.

"Alright, then. You go out in the woods and look for the people eating monsters while I stay and do research," Sam said smiling.

"Research it is."


	3. Rookies

AN: So this ended up being a 'late Monday night update' week. Sorry about that, readers. It's been a crazy eight days. I may have just scored my dream job and if so, it will be 3rd shift work so that will cause a change in update days/times. But I will be sure to let you know if/when that happens so you'll know when to look for the next chapter.

As always, thank you to the loads of people who have added this to their favorite/alert lists and to the few brave souls that have been so kind and passed on some feedback. We're getting back to the 'A story' here so let me know what you think if you can spare a few seconds. Read on!

For warnings or disclaimer, please see Chapter 1.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3: Rookies<strong>

The Saugatuck Public Library was a hole in the wall at best, much like the other buildings in the small, quaint town. The place smelled like it was marinated in the 'musty book' fragrance.

Dean browsed the stacks, not really looking for anything in particular. After all, how many Melonhead books have you heard of? They aren't exactly plentiful on the New York Times Best Seller list.

He finally went and grabbed a county records book and sat down next to his brother to examine it.

Sam sat in front of his laptop, mesmerized by the vast amount of Melonhead information littering the World Wide Web. It was difficult to separate fact from fiction. Many of the sites were small-time and reminded Sam of the Hell Hounds Lair website they had dealt with when they had gone up against the Tulpa.

Sam looked away from his laptop when Dean sat down. "It looks like there's similar lore in at least two other U.S. states and two other countries. The legend in this area is that some guy named Dr. Crowe was operating a medical lab out of his mansion in the woods near Saugatuck around 1885. He was interested in studying and experimenting on kids with hydrocephalus."

Dean looked up from his book and sighed. "In English please, professor?"

"It's a condition where there is an abnormal amount of fluid surrounding the brain. It causes the child's brain to be condensed and their skin to be stretched out. It usually ended in death within a few weeks for the children born with it, but some did survive."

"So where did he find these kids?"

"Well, one site says he kidnapped them from orphanages around the Midwest. Another says he found parents of children with the condition and coaxed them into signing over their parental rights. There wasn't really a high amount of respect for children with special needs back then. Basically, he would gather as many of them as he could with any means possible. Then he would take them back to his place and keep them locked up in his basement where his wife would care for them between experiments."

Dean shook his head. "Creepy."

"That's not the last of it – "

"Of course not," Dean sighed, rolling his eyes.

"One of the sites claims that one night, the kids found a way out of their cages and escaped. A different legend says they killed the good doctor and his wife and then cut the bodies into pieces and hid the pieces all over the mansion to make sure they could never come back to life. Another one says that they just killed the doctor because they had formed an attachment to his wife. Either way, the hydrocephalus halted their brain development so the legend says they left the mansion and ran wild through the Allegan County woods, killing, and possibly eating, any human they found to protect themselves from further torture."

"Mmm, there's nothing like cannibalism in the morning. Sounds like a blast." Dean shook his head at the absurdity of the situation. "So if these were just kids with this hydrophobius – "

"Hydrocephalus," Sam corrected.

"Right, s'what I said. If these were humans with this condition, there's no possible way they could still be alive now. What, did they have little hydro babies or something?"

Sam shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe it's not the Melonheads at all. There's only one witness with a description. And, we don't even know what kind of experiments the guy was doing; maybe they're immortal now or something." Sam could tell Dean was getting bored with the details. "Ready to head over to the police station?"

"Hell yeah," Dean replied, jumping up and grabbing his jacket.

"Uh, Dean?"

"What?" Dean replied, irritated that Sam hadn't moved yet.

"Shouldn't conservation officers look like … well … officers?"

"Nah, not around here. Everyone loves the rugged look. I mean, hell, if we're supposed to be working in the woods all the time, why bother with a uniform? What we should get is some camo'd hunting gear, but I think our 'backwoods' look will be fine."

Sam shrugged. "Okay, I guess."

"Come on, Sammy. Trust your big brother." Dean flashed him a smile and then motioned to the door with a 'get your ass into gear' look that Sam didn't need to see twice before grabbing his jacket and heading outside to the Impala.

The Saugatuck Police Department was within walking distance of the library and nestled in between a bed and breakfast and a hardware store. Dean figured 'location, location, location' wasn't really at the top of their list when they built the place. It could have easily been mistaken for a supply closet.

Outside the station sat a single squad car. _Must be break time for the entire force,_ Dean thought, chuckling to himself.

Sam and Dean walked inside, sure to use their tall, 'I'm a professional, trust me,' statures, which had become so easy to produce, as they approached the front desk.

There were only a few officers working, though working was a relative term. One was playing solitaire on his computer, the other tapping a pencil on her desk and staring at the clock. Not much going on in the great city of Saugatuck.

Whipping out their badges, Dean smiled at the short, irritated-looking man sorting through paperwork. "Hello-" Dean started, looking down at the man's nametag. "Officer Holtz. I'm Officer Gramm and this is Officer Jones, Michigan Conservation Officers. We're here to see Sheriff Meyers."

The officer looked up at them, unimpressed. "Shouldn't you be wearing your uniforms?"

Dean didn't need to turn his head to know that Sam was giving him the stare of death. He could practically smell the smoke from Sam's eyes burning a hole in his head. "Well, usually, yes, but we weren't supposed to be on duty today. We kind of have to make do with what we have. Not to mention, we're allowed the occasional casual Tuesday," Dean finished with a laugh.

Officer Holtz rolled his eyes and mumbled something to the tune of 'casual Tuesday, my ass'. "Can I ask what this is regarding?" he asked, sluggishly.

Dean's silver tongue kicked in, full force. "We're here to discuss the recent disappearances. The DNR is hoping that area Conservation officers – that would be us –" he said with a smile, "could partner up with LEOs to try and keep the situation from getting any further out of hand."

The man suddenly exploded with laughter. "What, and they think _you_ can do a better job at solving these cases than us? Ha! You're just a couple of tree-huggers with handcuffs!"

Sam and Dean were taken aback from his reaction. "Uh, look, we aren't trying to step on any toes here." Dean was having a hard time keeping his cool. Real Conservation Officer or not, Dean was offended. "The good ol' State of Michigan just wants to focus on the safety of its citizens which means getting this situation taken care of as quickly and quietly as possible."

"Yeah, uh huh, I'm sure. Hold on a second, I'll get the sheriff for you."

As he walked away, Dean looked at Sam, knowing the same thing was running through his mind as well. _What the hell?_ The helpful officer got the sheriff alright, after he was done telling everyone else in the department the purpose of Sam and Dean's visit. Dean figured they shouldn't be too surprised. There were plenty of times before that he and Sam had gotten major attitude from some people in local law enforcement because they were under the impression that the FBI or some other 'higher up' agency was poking around in _their_ case. Although, this was probably the closest they'd ever been to being laughed out of a police station altogether.

They were ushered into the sheriff's office by Officer Holtz who quickly slammed the door, which ended up inches from smacking Sam in the ass.

Sheriff Meyers looked to be in his late forties. His body was lean; he was in better shape than most of the Sheriffs the boys had met in their work. A pair of reading glasses sat upon his nose, which seemed to be doing him no good since he was looking underneath the lenses to read.

The sheriff took off his useless glasses and placed them on top of a staggeringly tall pile of manila folders. He stood up and greeted the fake Conservation Officers.

"Hello boys, I'm Sheriff Steve Meyers. Sorry about that out there. Being a small department, many of my officers don't take kindly to outsiders coming in on our cases. We really do appreciate you coming in to help with all of this. Some of the locals are starting to get real spooked. So how can I help you?"

"We're looking for whatever information you have on the recent disappearances. We were told you've had five so far?"

The dark-haired man nodded his head slowly and sighed. "Yeah, one of them was a good friend of mine." He picked up a few of the files from beneath his glasses and handed them to Sam.

"The first to disappear was Henry Berent about six days ago. He was out hunting rabbits in the woods and never returned home that night. His wife called me the next morning in near hysterics. Said that he'd never not come home without at least calling her and giving her a damn good reason why."

Dean could tell this was the friend the sheriff spoke of a few minutes ago.

"Disappearances two, three, and four, were couple of teenagers. Paige and Parker Nolan and their friend Brandon VanWieren. They were out doing this geocaching thing in the woods-"

"Geocaching?" Sam asked, unfamiliar with the term.

"Yeah, it's kind of hard to explain. A lot of families do it. You use a GPS unit to find hidden containers, many of which are in the woods unfortunately. It tends to be real popular around here."

"Wouldn't it be kind of cold for that right now?"

The sheriff shrugged. "I guess, but when you live in a town that doesn't have much to offer the younger generations, bearing the cold seems to be a minor issue when it gives you something to do. I'd rather it be that than those kids out getting in trouble." Steve paused, realizing that it was meant to be a safe activity and yet, the kids had disappeared and things weren't looking too good. At the rate things were going, the teens would have been better off anywhere but the woods.

"Anyway, they disappeared three days ago. We were able to find the GPSr unit they were using but nothing else. The coordinates they were headed towards are in the file. The last one to disappear was Eric Rutkowski. He and his wife, Vanessa, were broken down on the side of Blue Star Highway. Vanessa said Eric thought he heard something and went into the woods to find out what it was. She went to follow him and before she knew it, he was gone. She said that whatever it was attacked her too, but that she was able to get away."

"And what exactly did she say 'it' was?" Dean asked, having a feeling he knew what the answer would be.

Sheriff Meyer paused for a few very long seconds. "She's not really sure. I think she was really confused after everything had happened. A family passing through town found her wandering the highway all bloodied up. She had taken a pretty hard knock to the head. She's still in the hospital if you would like to talk to her."

Dean gave a curt nod. "Definitely. Thanks for your help, Sheriff."

"Not a problem. Just try to keep us on the up and up, okay?"

Dean gave him the biggest, most trustworthy smile he could and a firm handshake. "Of course."

"And tell your supervisor that the next time he wants to form a partnership, to call me directly instead of sending a couple of rookies for info," he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "No offense," he added, the smile returning to his face.

Dean looked at the man for a second with a forced smile before mumbling, "None taken," and turning to leave.

The boys walked out of the police station, but not before receiving a few glares from the office monkeys working there.

"That's an experience I'd prefer not to have again," Sam said awkwardly, staring at his fake badge once they reached the Impala. "I thought you said these guys were like the state cops of the woods? Shouldn't we have been entitled to a little more respect than that?"

Dean shrugged in a 'don't blame me' fashion. "I don't know, I'm not an expert on law enforcement politics."

Sam laughed, "Why does that not surprise me?" He stopped to stare out at the inlet of Lake Michigan that was visible from the road. "So where do you think all these missing people are?"

"Who knows? I hate to say it, but these things don't really seem like the type to take prisoners and hold a ransom. I think there's a decent chance they're already dead."

Sam didn't want to think about it. He hated how innocent people always seemed to pay for the evil deeds of others. He was no stranger to that for sure.

"Either way, we need to go talk to this Vanessa girl and find out what she saw. Hopefully the local PD hasn't ruined it by telling her she's crazy."

* * *

><p>AN2: As a side note, if you're someone who enjoys outdoors-y type activities, I HIGHLY recommend geocaching. My team and I have been doing it for a few years now and it's a great excuse to make time in our busy schedules to see each other and have some fun. You discover places in your own area that you never even knew existed and get to meet lots of cool people. The official website is geocaching*dot*com. There's a nice video and FAQ section to check out. shamelessplug


	4. Sam Half Full

AN: Happy Coast Guard Festival weekend! Okay, so I know you don't all celebrate that, but here in Michigan we do. It kicked off last night so in honor of CGF, you're all getting the chapter a day early! I also will not be around tomorrow so I had to get it posted today.

Thanks again to the wonderful people who have been leaving reviews! I'm sorry I haven't found time to reply individually, but please know that it is SO very much appreciated! Also, thanks to the ones who have added this to various lists!

Take a gander at this chapter and let me know what you think! Thanks again for your support. Enjoy!

For warnings or disclaimer, please see Chapter 1.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4: Sam Half Full<strong>

Sam always hated hospitals. It probably didn't help that he was so used to battlefield medicine, or the fact that his father dropped dead in a hospital so recently that it still made his heart ache. The way Sam saw it, nothing good could come out of being in the hospital.

The hospital in Saugatuck was small, four floors at most, and was definitely old, probably built in the 60s. Sam looked around, taking note of the wallpapered walls that were in dire need of an upgrade. The gray-blue textured paper wasn't much on the cheery side.

Approaching the desk, Dean stepped ahead and put on his flirty smile for the old woman volunteering at the patient information desk.

"Hello ma'am, we're here to visit a friend of ours. Vanessa Rutkowski?" Dean said as amiably as he could.

The woman at the desk blushed slightly and began typing rapidly on the computer in front of her. "How do you spell the last name?"

Dean held his smile for the woman before turning and looking alarmingly at Sam, realizing he had never actually read the file. Sam, as usual, saved Dean and quickly took over, spelling out the girl's name without hesitation.

"She's in room 237, that's on the second floor. You can take the elevator just down the hall," she said smiling as she handed Dean a slip of paper with the visiting hours of the hospital and Vanessa's room number written on it.

Approaching Vanessa's room, Sam knocked gently on the door.

"Come in," she replied back, rather quietly.

The sight the boys saw when they walked in wasn't one they were expecting.

She looked young, no older than thirty for sure. Her eyes were a beautiful, deep shade of green – at least that's what it they looked like by the amount of her eyes they could actually see. Vanessa's short, blonde hair was matted down with a few remnants of blood and the white bandage wrapped around her head. She had a deep cut across her cheek that sported a few stitches. Then to top it all off, a black eye. Talk about insult to injury.

She looked miserable to say the least. She still had an IV in her arm and a nasal cannula resting just beneath her nose.

"Are you Vanessa Rutkowski?" Sam asked, gently.

She nodded her head. "Who are you?"

"I'm Officer Jones and this is my partner Officer Gramm. We're Michigan Conservation Officers working on your case. Mrs. Rutkowski, we were hoping we could ask you a few questions about what happened."

Vanessa sighed and laid her head back on the pillow. She rubbed her temples and took a deep breath. "Look, the police department already asked me every question imaginable. Please, just talk to them, they'll tell you everything you need to know."

Sam glanced at Dean before approaching her bedside. "I know, I'm sorry. We spoke with the Sheriff at the police department, but we're getting the feeling that we aren't being told the whole story. We want to know everything that happened, exactly as you saw it, in your own words." Sam saw that she still wasn't quite convinced. "Please, Mrs. Rutkowski, we could really use your help."

She examined Sam and Dean, sizing them up on their trustworthiness, before finally speaking.

"You can call me Vanessa," she finally replied. "We were on our way to pick our sons up from my parents' house in Allegan. The car started making some weird noises so Eric pulled over to take a look. He got out, and started checking everything. It was cold, so I stayed in the car. Like a minute or two later, he came to my window and said we had a flat tire and he heard voices just inside the woods and was going to go see if there was someone who could help him change the tire."

She paused for a moment as a brief tear threatened to spill over.

"I told him we should just call 'Triple A' and let them take care of it, but he insisted on it and said he'd be right back. I mean, who goes into the woods for help when we're paying a premium for them to tow us wherever we need to go? Anyway, I let him go but something didn't feel right so I got out of the car to go after him."

She came to a dead stop with her story, unwilling to go on.

"Vanessa, it's okay, whatever you saw or whatever happened, you can tell us." Her reluctance to give her account of the attack reminded Sam of the boy they interviewed after the crash of the United Britannia flight, as well as countless others who were afraid that telling the truth would force them to sacrifice their own sanity.

She shook her head. "No, you'll think I'm crazy. They all do. I sound like some rumor-obsessed teenager that fell for the stupid legend that parents tell their kids to keep them out of the woods during hunting season. The officer I spoke with thought I was certifiably insane, at the very least."

Dean spoke up. "We're not the Saugatuck Police though. We deal with all kinds of things that people think are crazy. It's nothing we haven't heard before, trust me."

She waited a few seconds before deciding to continue on.

"Well, I heard Eric yell. I took off running into the woods to try and catch up. When I finally found him, he was being dragged away. I ran after him and something grabbed my neck and pulled me to the ground. I hit my head and it started to punch me. I started kicking and screaming until I got it off me for a second and ran back towards the highway."

She stopped again as more tears filled her eyes. "I left Eric there; I thought for sure he would get away. He's one of the strongest people I know. I didn't know what to do. I just ... I just wanted to try and get help ... I … I didn't – "

Sam looked into her eyes. He felt awful for her. There had been plenty of times that he had questioned his decisions when they led to the death of an innocent. "It's okay. You did the right thing. You needed to get help."

She shook her head and wiped away her tears. "You say that now, but it doesn't feel like it. Eric is God knows where and I'm stuck in this hospital while my boys are wondering why we didn't come to get them. My parents are at a loss on what to tell them and, frankly, I am too." Vanessa stopped again, thinking briefly about her sons and all the things she had to do in the coming days.

She hesitated before continuing. "Anyway, this family stopped to help. I just told them that we were attacked. We went back to the woods but by the time we got there, they were all gone. Eric ... and ... and those things, they just disappeared. There was …" she began to sob softly but then forced herself to regain composure. "There was blood on the ground. I ... I think it … that it might have been … Eric's … or … or maybe even mine. I … I just … I don't know.

"Can you describe what they looked like?"

Vanessa nodded reluctantly, attempting to slow down her erratic breathing and trying to decide how to word everything she saw that night.

"They had these big heads ... and their eyes ... well, their eyes kind of bulged out, you know?" She shook her head again. "God, you must think I'm insane."

"No, we don't Vanessa, I promise. My partner and I, we don't believe we know everything that's out there. We take all claims seriously until we can find something to refute them," Sam said, reassuringly.

She nodded and continued her description. "They were short, shorter than me, which is saying something. But they were really strong. They looked … well, they looked just like the legend said they would. Like … Melonheads."

"How many do you think there were?" Dean asked.

"I don't know. At least three. Maybe as many as five? I didn't really get a good count. Eric was ... oh God ... Eric was being pulled by at least two of them. I really just don't have a good idea."

"It's okay. You've given us a lot of information. Every little bit helps. One last question. Exactly where were you on Blue Star Highway when you stopped to check out the car?"

Vanessa sat for a moment, thinking. "I'm not completely sure. I'm positive we hadn't gotten to 134th Avenue yet, but we were past Clearbrook so somewhere in that area."

"Thanks for your cooperation. If we need anything else, we'll be in touch."

Walking out to the parking lot, Sam and Dean felt sick.

"Well, it definitely fits the description of the Melonheads," Sam said softly, not wanting to be heard by any passing hospital staff or visitors.

"Yeah, that's for sure."

Reaching the Impala, Dean pulled out a map of the county and smoothed it out on the trunk. Sam grabbed a pen from his bag and the slip of paper he used to copy the most pertinent information from the files handed to him by the sheriff.

The cold wind blew the edges of the map this way and that, but Sam ignored it, concentrating on the center of the map. "Okay, Berent was supposed to be hunting off of 65th. He could have used any number of two-tracks to get out there, but let's just assume, worst case scenario, that he ended up as far as ¾ of a mile from the road." Sam made a mark on the map where he thought Berent could have been hunting and then drew a quarter mile radius around it.

"And the teenagers," he continued, "were looking for one of those cache things at these coordinates, which would have put them near 135th and 66th, about a mile and a half south of Berent's possible position."

"Then to finish it off," Dean took the pen from Sam, "Eric and Vanessa were stopped about a mile southeast of there." Dean made the third mark on the map and then stepped back.

"So, it looks like they're moving East," Sam said, uneasily.

"Let's hope not because if they are, our search radius just got a hell of a lot bigger."

Both boys stared at the map, trying to form an opinion of what to do next.

"Well, it's getting late. It's going to be dark soon. I say we go check out the area that Eric and Vanessa were stopped in," Dean suggested, folding up the map.

As they made their way down Blue Star Highway, Sam spent the ride staring out the window watching the trees pass by. Despite the pressing nature of their current case, Sam couldn't get certain things off his mind. He couldn't stop obsessing about how to save Dean from hell, the scene he saw in Dean's head where Lisa invited Dean to a romantic picnic, or the fact that Dean, unknowingly, had just sold his soul for the brother that could very well become Heaven's public enemy number one. To say Sam felt guilty would be a huge understatement.

Any shrink would have said those kinds of pressures were impossible to withstand but for Sam, it was just another day as Sam Winchester. It didn't make it any less complicated or any easier to deal with, but it proved that the only way to react to the problems was to face them head on.

"Dean, I think after this we should take a break from handling cases for a while. We gotta keep trying to find the demon that holds your contract. As soon as we get through with this case, we need to throw the search into overdrive. I have a few ideas I've been working on."

Dean glanced at Sam in the passenger seat with a confused look on his face and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Sam was acting more and more weird by the moment. "I know, Sam, we already talked about it. I told you I didn't want to go to hell and that I'm not gonna. We're gonna find a way to keep us both out of the pit."

"I know, I just want to make sure you're still gonna give this everything you have."

Dean responded with a resounding, "Duh," and refocused on the road. "Besides, who would be there to torture you if I left?"

Sam looked down at his hands and then looked out at the road in front of them. "I know, it should be a given. It's just … what you said, when we were doing that crazy dream walking thing, about not ever having the dream with Lisa and Ben, I know you were lying."

"Damnit Sam," Dean said, trying to protest, but Sam continued over top of him.

"Dean, it's okay to want those things. Hell, you know I've wanted those things at one time or another. And I swear to God, I'm going to make sure you get that chance."

Dean wanted to pound his fist into the steering wheel, but thought better of hurting his baby. These conversations kept going in circles and he was beginning to get irritated. "What's gotten in to you, Sammy? Have you been hitting the tequila again without me knowing?" Dean wouldn't say it openly, but Sam was _seriously _beginning to freak him out. Not like, 'you're not quite acting like yourself' different, more on the verge of 'is there another demon bitch inside of you?' different.

"No, of course not. It's nothing …" Sam said, unsure of the best way to explain everything. Sam figured not explaining anything at all would be his best bet to avoid total chaos and distrust between them. "Nothing, really. It's just like I said … I want to make sure that I don't let you down. I mean, Jesus Dean, you sold your soul to a crossroads demon. I will not allow you to go to hell. It's just not an option."

An uncomfortable silence filled the Impala that made both brothers shift in their seats. Dean was, understandably, concerned about his brother. First it was the crazy, screaming in his sleep dreams and now the 'out-of-the-blue acts of selflessness' crusade. It all made Dean really uneasy.

He thought back to what the yellow eyed demon had said, when he asked Dean if he was sure he had brought the whole 'Sam' back. At the time, Dean was sure of it, how could Sam come back any other way? But with each passing day, Dean became less and less sure.


	5. Creature With the Water Brain

AN: Here you go, guys. Right on schedule. Thank you reviewers; you guys rock. I appreciate your kind words and feedback.

I did end up getting that dream job I spoke of earlier. I start training tomorrow so it will be a while before I work the schedule I was hired for. Hopefully that means nothing should interfere with the posting schedule for this story. As I mentioned before, I will let you all know right away if/when it does.

For warnings or disclaimer, please see Chapter 1.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5: Creature with the Water Brain<strong>

Approaching the area where Vanessa said she thought she and her husband had stopped, Dean saw the red minivan that was still parked on the side of the road, with a neon orange sticker on the back window deeming it un-drivable and in need of a tow. He pulled up a few yards in front of it and shut off the motor.

After climbing out of the car, the first thing Dean did was open the trunk to grab a few things from his beloved arsenal.

"Um, Dean?"

"Hmm?" Dean replied, still digging through the trunk full of guns, knives, and salt.

"Have we even established what exactly kills these Melonhead things?"

Dean stopped his actions almost immediately. "Um, well, I guess we don't know."

Sam continued to glare uneasily at his brother. Dean laughed, "Come on, like we've never done this before. Let's just grab whatever we can fit. We'll be fine."

Sam raised his eyebrows. Dean's whole, 'I'm going to die soon anyway' mentality was really getting on his nerves. Dean had a point, but it didn't make him feel any better about the situation. It was like walking onto a high-ropes obstacle course blindfolded – not something you generally live to tell about. "Okay, but if something bad happens, I'm blaming it on you."

Dean huffed and rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine. Whatever. Let's just get this job done and get out of here. This town gives me the creeps, and not the usual 'supernatural creature' creeps, more like, 'twilight zone' creeps."

The boys each grabbed a shotgun loaded with rock salt and placed a knife within their jacket pockets. Dean and Sam learned from past experience that being prepared was a must when it came to hunting, though they didn't always prove this information had been stored in their long term memory. But then again, they were Winchesters, trouble practically followed them like a lost puppy and nothing ever was supposed to be easy.

Dean went first, heading into the woods through an entrance directly across from the Rutkowski's van. The sun had begun to go down and the air had gotten colder. Despite there being some semblance of daylight the sheer amount of trees in the area, even without their leaves, forced the brothers to pull out their flashlights to see clearly.

Following the snowy footprints of the married couple, Sam and Dean walked a few yards into the Allegan county woods. It took only a few seconds for Sam's flashlight to ghost over a large, partially melted spot of snow on the forest floor. On the spots where the ground was visible, Sam looked closely and saw deep crimson splotches, nearly tinged completely brown from drying.

"It doesn't look like much. If Eric was killed, it couldn't have been here," Dean said, examining the blood that was haphazardly splattered on the ground. The spots of blood were succeeded by a drag mark that lasted about twenty feet before finally disappearing.

"Well, they haven't found any bodies yet. Maybe he _is _still alive. Maybe they all are."

"I hate to say it Sammy, but like I said before, if these things are the savages that the lore says they are, I can't see any reason they would have to keep those people alive."

Suddenly, Dean heard the crack of a broken branch and turned quickly towards the sound. Sam followed his line of sight but saw nothing.

"Did you hear that?" Dean asked in a whisper.

Sam shook his head, but stayed alert nonetheless.

The noise that Dean had heard came again, this time from the opposite direction, and Sam caught this one loud and clear. They turned towards it but again found nothing. The winter breeze making its way through the woods almost felt like an ominous warning sign that they had somehow missed. Besides the two out of place noises, the area was dead silent. There were no passing cars or wildlife to speak of.

Every single one of their senses was on high alert. Hearing a third noise, the distinct crunching of a dead leaf, the boys turned around and found themselves face to face with a hideous creature. Its blue-tinted skin could hardly contain the large volume of contents in its skull. It could have easily had a starring role in _The Thing_. Small wisps of hair covered its head, but it wasn't even enough to distinguish a hair color.

Jumping into action Dean took the shot, unsure of how long it would be clear, landing the rock salt round right in the chest of the thing. This only succeeded in startling it and making it angrier. It fell to the ground in surprise but seconds later, rose quickly. Undeterred by the salt-covered wound, it started in again on both of them. Moaning nonsensically, it came closer and closer. A growl escaped its lips as it continued it's approach.

Both boys tried to stay aware of their surroundings to avoid tripping over any logs or lone sticks while they brainstormed for ideas on how to take the creature down.

At a loss of what to do, Sam pulled out his knife and started in on it. As he got closer, the creature opened its mouth revealing sharp, disgusting, crooked teeth. Sam tried unsuccessfully to avoid the pointed fangs as they sunk into his arm. With adrenaline still pumping, he jabbed the knife directly into its heart. Well, actually, Sam wasn't positive the thing had a heart, but he got as close to its assumed position as he possibly could.

"Son of a bitch!" Sam yelled, recoiling as soon as the pain hit and covering his arm.

Despite successfully biting the younger Winchester, the volleying stab was completed with enough force that the Melonhead stumbled backwards and fell to the ground again. The boys were undoubtedly in luck this time though, for the first time in a long time. The Melonhead, realizing that it was set to be an unfair fight without any companions to lend a hand, stood and retreated quickly back into the woods.

On pure instinct, Sam and Dean attempted to run after it, but before they knew it, all traces of the creature were gone.

"You okay, Sammy?" Dean asked, acknowledging the 'melonhead-sized' bite wound that left a few holes and spots of blood on his shirt sleeve.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sam replied, rolling his sleeve up and examining the bite. A few small drops of blood seeped out from the puncture.

"Dude, hope you've had your tetanus shot recently," Dean said, smiling. "That thing looked downright toxic."

Sam socked his brother in the arm in return as they made their way back to the Impala.

"Seriously, though, you should let me take a look at that."

"Let's just get out of here first," Sam said, giving a slight shiver. "We don't need any more of those things coming back for seconds before we're ready for 'em."

As soon as they climbed in the car, Dean started the engine and took off down the highway. The first few minutes of the ride passed in silence as they each played the events over again in their heads.

"For the record, I think that is by far one of the weirdest looking things we've ever hunted. And where the hell did it go? That thing is either a marathon runner or it has some crazy, futuristic teleportation vibes going on," Dean said, his eyes concentrating fiercely on the road.

"Man, I don't know. I was right behind it. It just disappeared. We gotta figure out where it was headed. Kind of weird that there was only one considering how many were here when Eric and Vanessa were attacked."

"No, not weird, damn lucky. I shot it, you stabbed it, and it was still up and running. I just can't get over the size of that thing's head! There has to be a way to find out how to kill it."

"I guess we have some more research to do," Sam said, sighing.

"I think I need a beer first," Dean said turning off of the highway and heading towards downtown. "Maybe we can get some information from the locals."

Downtown Saugatuck had more to offer bar-wise than either of the boys would have expected. Despite being a weeknight, every bar in town seemed to be buzzing. Choosing a rather inconspicuous looking establishment, Dean parked the Impala and grabbed Sam by the arm before he could get too far.

"Let's get that bite cleaned up first, champ. We don't need you turning into a human-eating freak." Dean started towards the trunk and then paused with a chuckle. "Oh wait, that's right. You're already a freak. Well, I don't want you to become a cannibal on top of it. That would just complicate things."

Sam wanted to be offended but couldn't help the smirk that appeared. He rolled his eyes but followed Dean to the trunk for the first aid kit regardless.

"I can do it, you know," Sam said, opening the kit.

"Just let me take care of it, it will go a lot faster."

Sam sighed loudly and rolled up the sleeve on his shirt while Dean pulled out a flask of holy water, the peroxide and a few squares of gauze.

"That thing got you good," he said, pouring a small amount of the water onto the wound. It made no hissing sound, which Dean figured was a good sign, and meant that these things they were dealing with had to be more human than supernatural and hopefully that there was no 'melonhead poison' involved in the encounter. Dean then dumped a generous amount of peroxide onto the bite. Sam clenched his fist and sucked in a breath of air, trying to keep himself from pulling his arm back.

Sam held the gauze on his arm while Dean slapped a few pieces of tape around the edges. Within a few seconds, the kit was put back in the trunk and the brothers were walking inside.

Corner Bar was a smaller bar in the basement of a restaurant, but it was large enough that they wouldn't draw too much attention to themselves. They found themselves a pair of stools at the bar and moments later, the young bartender came over.

"What can I get for you?" she asked, her eyes sparkling in the light from one of the many neon signs resting above the bar.

"I'll take whatever beer on tap you suggest," Dean said, not paying much attention.

"And how about you, honey?" she asked, winking at Sam.

"Uh, I'll have the same," he replied awkwardly, staring intently at the bandage on his arm. This got Dean's attention.

"You know, I'm pretty sure that chick was into you," Dean said in a hushed tone, flashing his pearly whites at his brother after she left to grab two glasses.

Sam smiled back and rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

"No, seriously. I think you should go get her number. She was …. kinda cute." Dean had a hard time getting the words out around the snickering escaping his lips.

"You're crazy." Sam said, suddenly interested in looking at every picture that hung on the walls and pretending to ignore Dean's antics.

The girl came back, setting down the beers and winking one more time at Sam. "I'm Allison, by the way. Let me know if you need anything else."

Sam ignored her almost burning 'I'm so in to you' stare and concentrated intently on his beer. She lingered only a second before realizing that her advances were a lost cause.

Dean drank his beer and turned on his barstool to look at the girl singing karaoke at the back of the bar. She was a tad tipsy and no matter how hard she tried, the notes to the country song she was singing just wouldn't come out right. Dean felt like his ears were bleeding.

Sam took a drink of his beer and leaned back in his chair. "We're SOL man. Unless I can somehow scrape something up that we missed before. But even so, the lore has been there for years about where they came from and what happened to them and there's still no indication of why they're suddenly attacking people now. And how the hell do we get rid of them? We have zero leads."

"They pretty much appeared out of thin air."

The boys sat in silence for a few moments. It wasn't very often they had no clues as to how to hunt a creature.

"Well, if the legend is true, they're human. Albeit really screwed up humans, but they're still human. So these can't be the exact same Melonheads Dr. Crowe was experimenting on."

"Okay, so maybe someone picked up on the doctor's work. It wouldn't be the first time that someone stumbled upon some ancient instruction manual and decided to try it out for themselves," Dean offered, and then rolled his eyes thinking about the foolish deeds of humans. What part of evil experimentation could actually sound appealing to these idiots?

"So then who would have the expertise to carry out something like that? And why the hell were we not able to kill them? And don't you think someone would notice if there were kids being kidnapped from the area?"

Suddenly Allison reappeared. "How're you boys doing?" Dean had to hold back a laugh as he watched her hand creep closer and closer to his brother's. "Anything else I can get you?"

"As a matter of fact, yeah," Dean said, putting aside the teasing words he wanted so bad to let loose. "What do you know about the Dr. Crowe and the Melonheads legend?"

She stared back for a second wondering if she had heard him right. "You want to know about the Melonheads?"

Dean nodded and took another drink of his beer.

"Well, I suppose I don't know anything more than anyone else from around here. He was just a crazy old man that got his rocks off experimenting on people. One day, the kids freak out on him and tear him to pieces. Personally, I don't blame 'em, but then taking it out on every _other_ hick in a twenty mile radius is pushing it a little."

"Do you know what made it so easy for those things to overpower people? I thought they were just kids?" Sam asked, hoping they could get at least a shred of new information.

Allison beamed at him like a school-girl with an intense crush. "Well, people say he found a way to modify DNA to create a super-human. Ya know, like all those secret government armies that people always talk about? But I think if he was that smart, we woulda known about it. I mean, if you're that smart, why the hell would you sit on your hands your entire life?"

"Right, thanks for your help," Sam replied, ignoring her glowing smile. As soon as she walked away, Sam rolled his eyes. "Well, that's great. If her super-human theory has any truth to it, I don't have a clue how we're gonna take 'em down."

Much to Dean's delight, the karaoke singer finished her song and stumbled back to her table. The DJ turned on some Jimmy Buffet to fill in the break causing Dean to stare off into nothingness, deep in thought. "Man, we need a vacation," he said after taking another long swig from his beer.

Sam laughed. _Leave it to Dean to state the obvious_. Though every time they thought about taking that much needed vacation, something always seemed to take precedent. Who knew if they would ever have a break from the wild and weird long enough to go someplace and relax.

"I'm thinking Cozumel. There can't be anything supernatural in Cozumel. That would just be wrong," Dean continued.

"Dean, we're wanted by the FBI. How do you plan to get out of the country?"

"Fun killer," Dean said with a pout.


	6. One Hell of a Deal

AN: Well, here is the next chapter for Point of Evil. Thanks again to my generous reviewers. You guys are incredible. You have no idea. I'm glad I had a chance to reply to some of you last chapter.

I also want to address a question brought up by RogueStorm84. The Melonhead legend is something that I did not make up myself. It is a real legend that exists in the Allegan woods. I grew up very close to the area and had versions of the story told to me on many occasions. Truth really is stranger than fiction which is why I thought it was appropriate to use that legend as a focal point for my first Supernatural fan fiction. Everything in the earlier chapters is true to the real thing. From this point forward, I've manipulated the legend a little for my own storytelling purposes. You're welcome to search the internet for more information on the legend. The different versions are quite interesting.

Read on!

For warnings or disclaimer, please see Chapter 1.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6: One Hell of a Deal<strong>

After each finishing a beer, the boys got back to the Arrowhead Motel and immediately went to work, hoping to fill in as much of the missing information as possible before it got too late.

Getting back on the laptop, Sam plugged in his USB modem, connected, and accessed the Allegan County Property Record Database.

"So we know that Crowe's original home was in Allegan County. We just need to figure out where." Sam continued to type and click before finally grabbing a pen and a piece of paper. "There's one home in the county that matches the name and the date. It says that a two story home was built in 1880 by William Henry Crowe, later bought by a private buyer in 1932 and then sold to Sanders Enterprises in 1997 after it had been sitting on the market for a few years. They made almost $80,000 in real estate improvements before putting the house back on the market three years ago."

"Did they sell it?"

"Yeah, about two years ago to," Sam paused waiting for the vital information to load. "a woman named Virginia Cavenaugh."

"Alright, where is this place?"

"About three miles north of 135th Ave, near Goshorn Lake – "

"Wait, lemme guess, in the middle of the Allegan woods because the crazy man liked his privacy just a bit too much?" Dean said, rolling his eyes. He was starting to like this case less and less with each passing day.

"Yup."

"Well, I guess we should go pay her a visit tomorrow. Maybe do a sweep of the house and see if we can figure anything else out about the big headed bastards."

"Sounds like a plan," Sam said, closing the laptop. "Hopefully people are listening when the cops tell them to stay out of the woods."

Dean laughed. "Did you see those guys? I wouldn't listen to them if they told me they could save me from the pit. They look like a lot of things, but intelligent isn't one of them."

Sam shrugged his shoulders. It shouldn't really be a surprise after all the insults Dean received that day that he would have a rather sour opinion of the local boys in blue. "Well, at least the bigger hunting seasons are over. Those Melonheads would be having a field day with all those people out there hunting."

Dean chuckled. "I'd call it poetic irony," he said, smiling.

Sam shook his head. "Do you even know what that means?"

"You know what I'm saying," Dean said, shrugging off the question.

Sometimes Sam really wondered where his brother's dark humor came from. Then again, looking at how they grew up, he figured it might not be as much of a mystery as it seems.

Sam got up, took off his jeans, and started to brush his teeth.

"Man, you aren't going to bed, are you? It's not even midnight," Dean asked, clearly shocked.

"Well, yeah, I'm kind of rully t'rd an' it was a lon' day," Sam mumbled around the toothbrush in his mouth.

"Dude, English, please."

Sam spit in the sink and then repeated himself. "I said, I'm really tired and it was a long day."

"Awe, come on. I wanted to watch some HBO. This is the first motel we've stayed at in weeks with free movie channels!"

"That's fine," Sam said. "I'm sure I'll be able to sleep through it. But if I wake up to Casa Erotica, I won't hesitate to revoke your TV privileges for the remainder of this case."

Dean, satisfied, flipped on the television and grabbed the HBO guide out of the bedside table drawer. "Oh perfect!" Dean said excitedly, turning up the volume on a movie he deemed one of his particular favorites. "Come on, Sam, you can't seriously want to go to bed when _The Dark Knight_ is on!"

"Yeah, I do," Sam replied with a chuckle.

Dean stared at him wide-eyed for a moment. "Okay, whatever. But remember, you're missing out on time with your damned to hell big brother."

Sam groaned quietly and laid on the bed, pulling the thin, rough motel pillow over his head. Dean was definitely gonna milk that for everything it was worth. He attempted to tune out the movie long enough to fall asleep. Surprisingly enough, Sam actually managed to sleep peacefully for almost the entire night. The operative word being _almost_.

_Fire. White hot, burning fire. Sam's skin felt like it was absolutely boiling. The tips of the flames licked at Sam's skin causing him to hiss in pain every few seconds. He tried to look around at his surroundings, but the light was blinding in itself._

"_Come on, Sam, you know you're meant for this job."_

_Sam looked in the direction of the voice and found himself looking into the eyes of the yellow eyed demon._

"_No way in Hell," he replied through gritted teeth._

"_Ah, always with the ironic comebacks. Sammy boy, you have a lot to learn. I'm willing to help you with that. What do you have left to lose? Dean's already here, there's nothing you can do about that. Why not put all of that in the past and embrace your destiny?"_

"_There's no such thing as destiny!" Sam screamed out through the pain._

"_Tut, tut. Let's not get angry. And don't be silly, of course destiny exists. This has been … oh how do you humans like to say it … written in the stars … since well before you were born. This," Azazel said, putting his hands out, "is exactly what you've been working towards."_

_Sam wanted nothing better than to tell him to go to hell, but he held his tongue, realizing that saying it wouldn't exactly help to improve the situation._

"_Think about it, boy. You have amazing potential. You wouldn't have had any of those abilities if it wasn't for me. My blood gave life to those abilities. But the power with which you use them is all your own. No help from me there. Now, doesn't that tell you that you are meant to embrace this greatness that you have been presented with?" Azazel said jovially, holding the broad smile on his face._

_Sam continued to stare, angrily, at the demon that had destroyed his entire life. "I will never – ever – do anything to help you. You took everyone and everything I cared about! You're an evil bastard and you deserve a fate worse than Hell!" Sam moaned in pain as it seemed to intensify to match his anger._

"_All that anger, Sam. That right there should tell you how powerful of a ruler you could be. One word from you and all this will stop. No more pain, no more Hell. I can give you everything you ever dreamed of." Azazel's voice was as smooth as a salesman trying to earn his commission on a timeshare in Aruba. _

"_I want my brother back!" Sam spat in his face._

"_You know I can't do that. Dean sold his soul to a crossroads demon. I don't hold that contract, Sam. I can't change Dean's … unfortunate predicament. But I can bring you back to Earth. With the amount of power you possess, you could easily have the entire world at your fingertips. I mean, come on kid, what's not to like?"_

_Sam was growing impatient. They were talking in circles and nothing was getting accomplished. "I'd rather spend an eternity in Hell than live one day without my brother," Sam said, finally._

_Azazel chuckled. "Have it your way then. You don't need me to remind you what you're giving up. Have fun in Hell, Sammy boy."_

"_It's Sam!" he yelled before the emblematic flames engulfed him with a heat greater than he could ever imagine._

Sam woke abruptly to Dean's hands on his biceps. Not completely lucid yet, Sam fought his brother for a few seconds.

"Hey, hey, Sammy. Whoa, slow down. Wake up, it was a dream. You were having a dream."

Sam blinked a few times working to clear the cloudiness from his eyes and his brain.

Dean placed his hand on Sam's sweaty forehead. "God, Sam, you're burning up. What were you dreaming about? You sounded like you were being gutted!"

Sam pushed away Dean's arms and stood up. "I need to go get some air. I'll be right back."

Sam headed straight for the door, barely stopping long enough to throw on a pair of sweatpants and shoes.

"Wait, Sam! You need a jacket! It's like fifteen degrees out there!"

Sam ignored his brother's warning. He regretted each movement he made, like absently scratching at a bad sunburn you forgot you had. All he could think about was getting the fire off of his skin. It was like he hadn't even woken up.

Dean thought about going after him. He _really _considered it. But he thought better of it. Dean figured Sam would be more willing to talk if he had time to slow down and process things himself before getting the third degree from his brother. Dean did, however, check the clock so he could keep an eye on how long Sam had been out there. The last thing they needed was for him to get hypothermia. Nothing like the feeling of frostbite in the morning.

The parking lot was nearly empty, not uncommon for a motel this size in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the week. The minute the cold air hit Sam's skin, he felt calmer. The burn, that at first seemed imprinted onto his skin, began to fade away slowly as he concentrated on watching each breath leave his mouth in the cold.

The whole 'intense dreaming' thing was getting really old, really fast. It was hard enough to sleep without waking up in the middle of the night from nightmares on top of it. The dreams had to mean something. Maybe that was the only way to get them to stop. Maybe the dreams were there to warn him of the person he might become. Or, maybe Sam was just trying to convince himself the dreams meant something to keep from going crazy.

So the real questions were, how could he stop them from happening? And what parts of those dreams were actual visions of the future? All of them? Some of them? Were they all just meaningless dreams?

Well, the first thing that had to happen, regardless of the answers to those questions, was finding a way to help Dean out of his contract. Sam knew his brother was the only one that could keep him in check. If Dean was gone, then who knew what would happen to Sam.

Sam began obsessively pacing back and forth in the freezing cold, wracking his brain to figure out his next move. Suddenly, the door to their motel room opened, startling him slightly.

"Sam, come on. Come back inside, it's way too cold for you to be out here without a jacket."

Dean was shocked when Sam complied after only being asked once. Turning around and shutting the door after Sam was safely inside, Dean faced his brother with a look of skepticism plastered across his face.

"So, are you ready to tell me what you were dreaming about?"

"Dean, we need to find the demon that has your contract."

"You were dreaming about my crossroads demon contract? What have I been feeding you? I bet it's all those salads you've been eating. I always knew they weren't actually any good for you."

Sam cocked his head. "What? No … well … I mean … not exactly. It's … it's not important what I was dreaming about. I'm telling you _now_ that we're running out of time. We need to get information on who holds your contract."

Dean knew there was something wrong when his brother didn't even react to his teasing about Sam's diet. "Sam, we're in the middle of a case. We can't just up and leave. We have an obligation here."

"No, Dean. You're my obligation. You can't go to Hell."

"What are you gonna tell Bobby? Huh? Or better yet, are you gonna be the one to tell Vanessa that her husband is never coming home? That her kids will never see their father again?" Dean was downright pissed off that Sam would even think about ditching a case in the first place. Though he would have no problem admitting that even he thought about bailing on a case before, he knew nevertheless that it was wrong.

"Dean, you said yourself that those things had no reason to keep them alive. You didn't think they were alive."

"Yeah, but we don't know that for sure. We don't know anything! What if they are alive? You just want to just abandon them and hope they escape? Or wait and see how many more people they take?" Dean paused to regain his composure and collect his thoughts. "You really need to talk to me about these dreams you're having, man, cause let me tell you, they are creeping me the hell out."

Sam wasn't sure how to respond. He simply stared at his brother and swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.

"Don't worry, Sammy. We're gonna find a way to keep me out of Hell. But until then, these people are our top priority. We need to get rid of this Melonhead problem first. Then we can think about findin' and gankin' the demon that holds my contract."


	7. Roots of Evil

AN: Here's the next chapter, guys. I apologize, I only did a quick read-through on this one. I picked up some extra shifts at work this week and I've been quite exhausted but I wanted to get this up for you ASAP.

Thanks again to my regular reviewers, your feedback is priceless and never goes unnoticed. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and look forward to some questions being answered real soon. Take care and enjoy!

For warnings or disclaimer, please see Chapter 1.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7: Roots of Evil<strong>

Dean lay in bed that night, satisfied that Sam had finally fallen back asleep. He always prided himself on being able to understand his brother in ways that no one else could. Despite their vast differences, they were in tune with each other the way brothers were meant to be. But this time was different. He knew that Sam was under a lot of stress. They both were. Was it possible that Sam was finally losing his cool?

Dean didn't want to think about the possibility. He always promised his father that he would look out for his little brother. Now it was time for him to really step up the protector role and he didn't even know where to start. It was obvious that Sam was freaking about Dean's deal with the crossroads demon but that wasn't new; there had to be a deeper motive to his sudden alarm.

The intense thinking ended up putting Dean to sleep rather than keeping him awake, surprisingly enough. The motel room stayed quiet until the alarm clock went off a few hours later that morning.

To say the tension between Sam and Dean was thick would be an understatement of epic proportions. Sam was frustrated and didn't want to be there, Dean wished Sam would give it up and just focus on the case, and neither one of them were in the mood to put aside their issues and work on the case.

They each took showers, brushed their teeth, and got dressed without speaking a single word. The room was quiet with the exception of the television, which Dean turned on to help drown out the awkward silence that had filled the room.

Once the normal routine was finished, Sam and Dean sat on their respective beds and pretended to watch TV. Their minds were both too preoccupied to even care what was on it. The silence continued a few moments more until neither of them could take a minute more of it.

"Look, Sam," Dean said, while at almost the same time, Sam began, "I'm sorry."

They sat silently again, each waiting for the other to continue. Dean decided to take the plunge.

"Sam, I appreciate that you care, I do. But I'm a big boy. I know how much time I have and I know that time is getting shorter. I told you that I was going to fight with everything I had and I meant that, but please, do not let innocent people suffer so we can put our agendas first. We've already started. We can't leave this job unfinished," Dean admonished.

Sam listened carefully to what his brother had to say. "I get that and I'm sorry I flipped out on you last night. I really … well, I just don't know exactly how to explain it. But you're right; we can't leave this job unfinished. I wish more than anything that we could be working on getting you out of your contract twenty-four-seven, but I get that we can't do that right now. I guess I was just a little out of my mind last night. I don't want to abandon these people either. I'm okay with focusing on the case and seeing it through 'til the end." Sam's apology sounded earnest, and for the most part it was, but he still didn't feel right just ignoring the disturbing dreams.

Dean smiled and nodded his head, apparently satisfied with Sam's answer. "Alright, this Dr. Phil moment is getting almost puke-worthy, but before we head out, I do want to make sure you know you can talk to me about your dreams, in fact, from the sounds of things, I think you probably should. I'm getting worried. I'm here to look out for you, like always, but I can't do that if you aren't truthful with me."

Sam awkwardly nodded his head in agreement. "I will, just … not right now."

"Good, well … that's uh … settled. Let's go grab some grub and check out Dr. Evil's lair," Dean said, gleefully.

After a small amount of deliberation, Sam and Dean decided on eating at Mama's House, a small diner in downtown Saugatuck. Dozens of cow pictures adorned the walls of the restaurant, with a grass green border encircling the room. There was a sign placed next to the entrance that read, 'Beware of Attack Cow'.

While Dean chowed down on his short stack, Sam had the map pulled out to mark the route they would need to take.

"Man, why do we always have to talk to people who live off of dirt roads? My baby always gets so dirty and the washboard effects are terrible for her shocks."

"Dean, it's actually not a regular dirt road. According to the map, Cheney Trail is a two-track."

Dean threw his head back and sighed. "Damn. That's even worse."

Sam shrugged his shoulders. "I don't see what the big deal is."

Dean looked at his brother like he had just admitted to sacrificing babies. "You don't know what the big deal is? That, Sam, is why I don't like you driving my car without me in it. I swear, if I end up in Hell and find out that you're taking her down dirt roads or not hand-washing and waxing, I will find a way to haunt you so bad, you will be wishing for so much as a poltergeist to save you."

Sam replied with a non-committal, "Whatever," and continued eating his fruit.

The former Crowe place was about twenty minutes outside of the downtown area. Dean turned, ever so carefully, down the two-track that led to it. A few seconds later, the house came in to view.

"Wow, some 'mansion'," Dean said staring at the modest two story home in front of him.

"Well, those internet sites aren't always the most reliable. Anyone can put anything up, regardless of whether it's true or not. Same reason you can't use Wikipedia as a source for a research paper."

"What's wrong with Wikipedia?" Dean asked, feeling as if a rug had been pulled out from underneath him.

Sam smiled at Dean and shook his head.

The 'mansion' was a light blue, Eastlake style home nestled between a group of large trees, currently naked because of the harsh winter climate. The newly restored home was breathtaking. The wraparound porch featured intricate woodwork and a pair of French doors that would probably have been an extremely expensive option in their time.

"Wow, they put a pretty penny into this place. I'm curious to see what it looks like inside," Sam said, gazing upon it.

"Well, they were probably doing everything they could to pull the evil out of this craptastic torture center," Dean said, looking at the house with a very different feeling than his brother. "You ready?"

Sam nodded his head and climbed out of the car. It was quiet inside. If it weren't for the like new, silver Cadillac SRX in the driveway, the boys would have thought she wasn't home. Sam went first as they climbed the porch steps up to the entryway. He rang the doorbell and stepped back to wait.

The wood beneath Dean's feet creaked as he shifted to lean on his right foot. Lying was a part of life ever since he could remember. It started with simple things like, 'My Dad couldn't sign my permission slip, he's away on business' (which wasn't a _complete_ lie) and escalated to more high profile lies like, 'I work for the FBI'. Dean could cook up a believable story in no time these days, which made his job much easier.

A small 'click' was heard and the door opened slowly. Virginia was a woman in her late 30s, possibly early 40s with long, wavy red locks. Her eyes were a bright shade of green that lit up her face nicely. She held a pleasant gaze as she greeted the strangers standing on her porch.

"Can I help you?" she asked, politely.

"Hi, Virginia Cavenaugh?" Dean asked.

She nodded. "Ginny, please."

"Ginny, my name is Dean and this is my coworker, Sam. We work for the Allegan County Historical Society. We were hoping to take a few minutes to pick your brain about this property. We're updating our list of historical homes and we would love to include yours in the Pre-1900s list."

She smiled sweetly and nodded her head. "I haven't lived here very long, but I'll help you out however I can. Please, come in."

The entryway of Ginny's house was all hardwood with a beautiful staircase heading up to the second floor. The railing had some of the same woodwork they had seen outside. On the floor was a fuchsia and cream colored area rug that matched the mocha colored walls quite well. The décor was less rustic than what seemed like normal for the area; it wasn't at all what the boys were expecting.

She led them into the living room where they were invited to sit on a black leather couch.

"Would either of you like anything to eat or drink?"

"No, thank you," Dean politely declined. "We won't be long."

Ginny nodded in reply and took a seat in a wingback chair, opposite the Winchesters.

"So what year was the house built and how long have you lived here, Ginny?" Sam asked, pulling out a small notebook.

"I was told it was built in 1880. I suppose I've lived here almost two years now."

"Uh huh, and how many floors are there?"

"Just two. There's a small attic upstairs, but it's really more of a crawlspace."

Sam nodded, making careful notes in his book. Dean suddenly stood up. "I'm sorry, is there a bathroom I can use? That coffee this morning just ran right through me," he said with a light chuckle.

She smiled and nodded her head. "I'm still working on remodeling the one on the main floor, but you're welcome to use the one on the second floor. Head up the stairs and it's the last door on the left."

Dean nodded and placed his hand against his pocket to make sure he still had the EMF meter on him.

Sam watched as Dean walked away and then continued his questions. "No basement? It looked like with the brick foundation that there would be a pretty large basement here."

Ginny shook her head. "No, the developers said there was one at one point, but that it had been badly damaged sometime in the home's history. They suggested I get the brick repointed, but I would have had to pay for it and it would have been way too expensive. They wanted to make sure the rest of the house wouldn't suffer any structural damage so they filled in the basement."

Sam found her answer troubling, but concluded that it may not be completely impossible and would essentially explain why the windows were bricked up from the outside.

Meanwhile, Dean stayed upstairs running over the place with his trusty EMF meter. After canvassing the second floor, he made his way back down the stairs as quietly as possible and began exploring the main floor. After passing through the kitchen, he reached the mudroom and just beyond that, the first floor bathroom – perfectly finished. _That's odd_, he thought. Then, looking across the hall from the bathroom, Dean spied a door with a large opened padlock sitting on the small table beside it. The door was left slightly ajar and Dean stepped towards it, peering into the opening. What he saw was a solid wood staircase heading downstairs.

"Well, I think that's about all the questions, we have for you. Hopefully my colleague didn't fall in," Sam joked loud enough, he hoped, so that Dean could hear it.

Just as planned, Dean reappeared in the living room. "Sorry, I missed almost everything. But I'll get the rundown from Sam as soon as we get back. Thank you so much, Ms. Cavenaugh, for allowing us into your home today. It's really lovely."

"Of course," she replied, smiling. "What exactly happens if I get put on this list?" she asked, suddenly, her smile turning into a forced expression.

"Well, your home would be marked as a historical monument, which would protect it from being demolished at any point in time, and it may occasionally be featured in the local newspaper," Sam answered smoothly.

Ginny looked at the boys uneasily. "You'll give me notice before putting it in the paper, right? I want to make sure the yard is in the best shape possible if strangers are going to be stopping by."

"Yeah, yeah, of course. We'll notify you at least a week in advance," Dean said, reassuringly.

"Um, okay. Well, thanks for stopping by," she said, walking them to the door.

Sam and Dean left Ginny's house, both sporting confused looks. They stayed silent until they had gotten in the Impala and turned off of the two-track that led to her house.

"Dude, I was so close to checking out the basement. Why did you have to give the 'time to go line' so soon?" Dean said, clearly disappointed.

"Um, Dean, she said the place didn't have a basement. She said the developers filled it in because it was too damaged to support the house."

"Well, I saw the stairs to the basement and, believe me, there was nothing blocking the passageway downstairs." He sat for a moment before the importance of the position of the stairs and the first floor bathroom dawned on him. "That's why she didn't want me using the downstairs bathroom. There was nothing wrong with it, she wasn't remodeling it, but it was across from the basement stairs. We need to get back in that place, man."

"We need to find out more about Virginia Cavenaugh first, then find a way to get into that basement."


	8. The Good, The Bad and the Unusual

AN: Here's the new chapter. Sorry it's a few hours late. I start my last year of college and my second job tomorrow so amidst all the craziness, I nearly forgot to update! I think I'm going to throw a note in my planner for next time ;)

Thank you SO much to my two regular reviewers, RogueStorm84 and twomoms. You guys are beyond amazing. I appreciate your feedback and I always look forward to hearing what you think.

Thanks also to everyone reading this, regardless of whether you choose to review or not. It's still nice knowing that you're taking the time to enjoy something I've put a lot of work into.

Okay, I think I've said enough. Enjoy!

For warnings or disclaimer, please see Chapter 1.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8: The Good, The Bad, and The Unusual<strong>

Sam and Dean got back to the motel room and each got working on their own tasks. Dean started out by making phone calls to the enterprise company that sold Virginia Cavenaugh the house, trying to find out any information on her, the house, and whoever was project manager, while Sam began doing some investigative work on the mysterious woman's past.

For Dean, it was slow going. No one seemed to remember the property and the paperwork available for it was minimal. He was passed from person to person, constantly leaving voicemails and waiting for return calls. One person was in a meeting, the other was taking a late lunch, and so and and so forth. He would often get a call back only to find out that the person he had waited so long to speak to didn't have the information he was looking for in the first place. He would be connected to someone else and leave another voicemail. To say he was 'frustrated' would be putting it lightly.

Sam was having just a little bit better luck than Dean, but that was mostly because he didn't have to deal with anyone directly. He was handy with a computer which made digging for information run much smoother.

The two of them worked like a well-oiled machine that continued nonstop, with the exception of Dean running out to grab some dinner.

The hours passed quickly and it soon became dark, despite it still being early in the evening. The early sunset always seemed to be a curse for Sam and Dean when they needed to get work done, but in this case, the darker the better.

"Dean, you're not gonna believe this," Sam said, turning the laptop towards him.

"Huh?" Dean mumbled through a mouthful of hamburger, still holding his cell phone to his ear. With the constant phone calls, his battery had gone down so low he was now tethered to his charger. Being on hold was about ten times worse when you had to listen to the same damn recording for twenty-five minutes straight. No, he didn't care that mortgage rates were up. No, he wasn't in the market for a new home. And no, he most certainly did not want to make a living in the 'picturesque landscape of West Michigan'. He was starting to think they were doing it on purpose for making them dig up information after they were supposed to have gone home for the day. But it's not like they could argue with an FBI agent doing an investigation.

"Virginia Cavenaugh is William Crowe's great-great-great-great-granddaughter."

It took a few seconds for Dean to process Sam's revelation. "Wait, what?"

"She's related to the original William Crowe."

"Seriously? Sweet 'Martha Stewart' model housewife Ginny Cavenaugh is the great-great-whatever of evil madman Dr. Crowe?"

"That's what I said," Sam said smiling.

"Somehow, I don't think that's a weird coincidence."

"Me either." Sam felt a tad bit of relief for the first time since they had arrived in Michigan. They finally had some sort of lead. "She was a genetics professor at UCLA and was in the middle of earning her PhD. Apparently, she up and left with no reason and no warning two years ago to come here."

"Well Sammy, if that isn't enough of a red flag for you, I've got something one step better," Dean said, moving his phone to the other ear. "I finally got through to someone at the enterprise company who was there when she looked at and bought the house. They said she was quite adamant that they needed to stop making improvements on the place as soon as she found it and realized it was on the market. Said she made the down payment in cash. I'm waiting for this secretary to find all the documentation and she's gonna pull up the blueprints of the house."

"Who makes a down payment on a house in _cash_?" Sam asked, shocked.

"She does, apparently. We need to get in that house," Dean said, packing up the rest of the food and swallowing the last bit in his mouth. "I don't know how she's involved, but I know she is somehow."

"She said she didn't want to get the brick repointed in the basement because it was too expensive, but it sounds like money wasn't an issue for her. And the company probably already repointed the brick themselves while they were updating the place anyway."

Dean nodded and shrugged his shoulders. "She's definitely dripping with the weird vibe."

"I found something else," Sam said, digging out one of his many pages of notes.

"And?" Dean said, staring blankly, waiting for a response.

"I found a website that claimed the only way to kill a Melonhead is to chop off its head."

"Alright, we've ganked a few vampires the same way. This is gonna be a breeze, Sammy."

"Hopefully. It's just lore, but it's the best lead we have," Sam added, frowning and closing the screen on his laptop.

"No bad mojo, Sam. We can't afford any of that crap right now," Dean said, dead serious. He turned his attention back to the phone as the woman on the other line finally picked up. "Thanks, Janet. I'll be by in a few minutes to get copies of everything."

He hung up and grabbed his jacket off the chair. "I'm gonna get the blueprints from the company so we can have an idea on what we're looking for and some exit strategies in case things get hairy. Shouldn't take me more than a half an hour or so. But if I'm not back in an hour, call the cavalry," Dean said smiling.

"Yeah, I'll be sure to do that," Sam replied, rolling his eyes.

A few minutes after Dean left, Sam felt his eyelids get heavy. Figuring he had the extra time, he laid down to take a short nap.

_"We're getting closer, I can feel it." It was the chick demon from Sam's earlier 'dream'. One of the demons that held Carl while Sam snapped his neck._

_ "Well, feeling like we're close isn't the same as being there, Viv. I should have found Calum weeks ago. Why have we not mutilated him yet?" Sam's husky, unnatural voice had turned to one of pure rage._

_ "We just have to give it time, Sam. We'll get him all in due time." She came up behind him and began to knead the muscles in his shoulders in an attempt to help relieve some of his stress. _

_ Sam shrugged her hands off of him and left the room. What he walked in to was a room, much resembling Bobby's panic room minus the demon trap, with pictures and articles covering an entire wall. 'Plague of the 21__st__ Century?', and 'FERRY SINKS A MILE FROM PORT, NO SURVIVORS' were just a few of the shocking headlines. _

_The largest of the articles contained a picture of a blackened home preceded by the headline, 'FIRE IN BERRIEN COUNTY KILLS 6'. Sam leaned in closer and read the caption:_

_A fire broke out early Thursday morning in this Benton Harbor home killing all six members of the Visser family._

_A continuation of the article taped beside the main headline contained a black and white photo of a happy-looking family wearing Christmas outfits. The parents, sitting in the center of the photo, were flanked by their teenage daughters who each had a younger sibling standing in front of them._

_Sitting on the desk, just beneath the articles, was a map of the Midwest with somewhere between ten and fifteen marks. He stared conspiratorially at it for a long moment before shaking his head and turning away in anger._

Sam woke with a start, a tiny spot of drool sticking to the table beneath him. He was confused, again, and getting really sick of the dreams. Thinking about the picture of the family, Sam felt sick. They would lose their lives and he had no idea why or even if it had happened yet. He would need to see if he could find anything out about the Visser family. If he could stop it from happening, he could move on to other things like finding out who that Calum guy was and if he had something to do with those terrible catastrophes that dream-Sam had taped to the wall. Sam could only think of one person he knew would have the inside info on demons: Ruby. Unfortunately, Sam also knew that Dean was not a big Ruby fan which would make asking her nearly impossible. He would have to reserve a block of time to stay away from Dean and have a valid enough excuse to do it that would keep Dean from asking questions.

Sam began searching the web for information on the Visser family. While doing so, he found out two things. First, Visser is a Dutch last name. Second, almost all of West Michigan had been settled by Dutch people. It would take him ages to pick through each family in Benton Harbor and figure out which one was the one from the article which, while it had a picture of the burned up house, had not listed an address.

Dean returned a few minutes later, blueprints and knives in hand, ready to formulate a plan.

"The basement has an entrance from the outside. As long as she hasn't done anything to it, that's probably our best bet to get inside the place," Dean said as he smoothed out the blueprint of the former Crowe residence. "The basement is huge, easily a thousand square feet, maybe more, depending on how she decided to use the space."

"Oh Dean, I love it when you get all 'interior designer' on me," Sam said with a smirk.

"Shut up."

Dean handed a knife and sharpener to Sam, and sat down to work. Both boys worked quickly, making sure the knives were sharp enough that the beheadings would take almost no effort.

Sam hated to put the Visser family search on hold, but after the argument with Dean he'd had, he knew he had to deal with what was right in front of them for the time being.

It stayed quiet, sans the _shink shink shink _noise of the knives being sharpened. Although they hadn't discussed a very detailed plan, Sam and Dean knew what they had to accomplish.

They would need to kill as many of the Melonheads as possible, take out the Queen Bitch, a.k.a. Virginia Cavenaugh (that is, assuming she's actually the one behind everything), and hopefully find the missing Saugatuck residents, though not necessarily in that order. Best case scenario, they would find the missing people alive, but at the very least, they hoped they could give the families something to bury if they were to find that they did not survive the ordeal. It sounded easy enough, but easy was never a guarantee in the Winchester's line of work.

As extra insurance, Sam called Bobby to check in. He told him what they had found, what their tentative plan was, and that if he didn't hear from them in a few hours and wasn't able to reach them, to send help. Bobby assured him that he would keep an eye on the time and that if they needed anything, he was just a few hours away in Joliet, Illinois hunting the succubus that had kept him from taking the Saugatuck case.

The brothers were off less than twenty minutes later. Dean decided to park the Impala just down the two-track from where Ginny's driveway began. It was far enough away that they wouldn't be spotted prematurely, but close enough that they could get to it quickly if they had to make a run for it.

They concealed their machetes as best as they could, despite the size and shape of them, and began to make their way through the woods to the yard of the large house. They stayed quiet, in hopes that they would avoid detection, until they made it to the edge of the forest. Though it wasn't too terribly late, close to nine-o-clock, the home was dark inside and out and, thankfully for them, the driveway was empty. The only light for miles was that of the moonlight – at least what little of it was shining through the dense winter clouds.

The boys crept their way through the open yard. The experience was rather nerve-wracking for the seasoned hunters. Trying to sneak through an open space, with nothing to hide behind if a threat were to appear, was difficult to say the least. The crunching day-old snow underneath their feet seemed like it was being amplified through a loudspeaker.

Time was of the essence as neither brother knew how long she would stay gone. Sam spotted the basement doors a few yards away from their current position and motioned to Dean that he had found their destination. Reaching the set of slightly rotted, wooden doors, Dean began his inspection of the lock that was fastened underneath the handle. Pulling out the small kit that had every tool he could possibly need to pick a lock, Dean smiled and got right to work.

Sam continued to look out for any signs of danger while Dean worked his magic on the metal barrier. With a distinct _click_ the lock popped open. Pulling out their flashlights, they began their descent.

The cement stairs to the basement were covered in dirt, leaves, and other evidence of the outside elements. The bottom of the stairs, however, told a different story. The floor of the basement was compiled of small, one inch by one inch, white ceramic tiles. They were impeccably clean, like that of a germaphobe or someone with a serious case of OCD.

Dean was the first one down. He allowed his eyes to adjust, as much as possible, to the pitch black that was the Cavenaugh/Crowe basement. It was tough only having a single beam of light to investigate a new place. Kind of like if someone were to shred a book and only give you a few words from each chapter. You realize very quickly that you're not quite getting the whole story.

Despite the challenge, Dean and Sam set out to find some other light source. Sam sidled along the wall until his hand caught on something that resembled a light switch. He flipped it on and was met with a sight that made his stomach cramp with sickness.


	9. Luck is for Sissies

AN: Sorry for the lateness of this chapter. Again, things are crazy busy and to top it all off, my sleeping schedule is completely out of whack. But I'm glad I found time to post today.

As always, thanks again to my reviewers. I know y'all are few and far between, but that makes each one even more special so thank you :)

The next few chapters are going to gravitate between being long and short. Sometimes the natural break doesn't always mesh with my preferences for chapter size. But I hope everyone enjoys!

For warnings or disclaimer, please see Chapter 1.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9: Luck is for Sissies<strong>

The room they were standing in was comparable to that of an operating room. There was a single metal table with padded restraints attached to it and metal trays on wheels to match. Cabinets with various bottles and instruments encircled the room. Between two of the cabinets sat a deep, industrial sized sink. The sink was an off-white color and made of porcelain. Sam took a glance inside of it and saw a bloody scalpel as well as another tool he didn't recognize. It all made the boys just a little uneasy.

They continued their examination of the basement by moving into another room, one that was dark just as the first one had been, with the exception of a small bit of light leaking in from the first room. While Dean searched for a light switch, Sam panned his flashlight over the room.

There were tanks, filled with an odd orange-tinted liquid. Each tank looked like it held easily over one hundred gallons of the liquid and had multiple tubes attached to it. The tanks were each empty, sans the liquid, but Sam and Dean's imaginations were already hard at work to figure out what they could possibly be used for.

"Hey, Sam," Dean whispered, smiling. "It's like The Matrix."

Sam ignored his brother's humor, giving him nothing more than an eye roll. Laughing, commenting, or any other form of response always seemed to influence the behavior.

Heading back towards the room with the table, they allowed their flashlights to guide them into a second adjacent room.

"Dean," Sam whispered, grabbing his brother's arm.

Dean looked to where Sam's light was concentrated and gasped quietly. Along the wall was a group of cages, each with a human being inside. Oddly enough, the hostages all stayed silent and stared at Sam and Dean blankly.

Dean found the light, flipped it on, and moved towards one of the cages. A boy of about sixteen stared back with wide, uneasy eyes. His skin was pale and his hair light blonde, cut extremely short.

"Whoa, relax, we're not gonna hurt you. We're here to help," Dean said, taking hold of the lock and checking it out.

"She's gonna be back. Please, you have to help us get out of here," said a man who looked to be in his late 20s. His hair was longer than the boy's and was a light brown color.

"Are you Eric?" Sam asked, walking up to him as Dean got to work on one of the locks.

"Yeah, please, my wife, I don't know if she's okay. She was out there with me, but they hurt her. I don't know where she is."

"Your wife is alright. We saw her, she's got a nasty bump on her head but she's gonna be fine." Sam was so relieved to see them alive. He stepped back to see who was there. He counted Eric, the sixteen year old boy that they saw first, another boy of around the same age, and a girl who looked just a little younger than the boys. Both the second boy and the girl had dark brown hair. Sam assumed they were the brother and sister of the group. A flash of fear passed through his heart. One of the kidnapped victims was missing from the makeshift jail.

"Was there an older man here, a - a man named Henry?"

Eric nodded his head. "I … don't know what she did with him. He was alive last I knew, but she … well, she made those things take him away. Said something about him not quite 'fitting the bill' of what she needed. I don't know where they went or what they did with him." He spoke softly and slowly, probably trying to filter his words to avoid scarring the young teens' minds any more than what they already were.

"Sam, you wanna give me a hand here?" Dean said in exasperation. "I can't get this lock to budge."

The boy that was in the cage Dean was inspecting spoke up. "She uses this really weird shaped key. I've never seen anything like it before."

"What's your name?" Dean asked calmly.

"Brandon."

"Well, Brandon, don't worry about it. I'm probably the most talented lock picker you'll ever meet. We'll get you guys out of here soon."

Suddenly, all four hostages moved to the back of their cages and became quiet.

Within a second, both Sam and Dean were completely subdued by a small army of Melonheads.

"Ah ah ah," Ginny Cavenaugh said, appearing behind them and shaking her head. "No one is going anywhere tonight." She moved forward, stepping between them, and turned around to survey the situation.

Sam and Dean looked at the creatures holding them and tried to fight back. They were definitely like the creature they had encountered in the woods except they were bigger. The things holding them still were near five feet tall, much taller than the first one they had seen, and had larger, more developed muscles.

There were two other Melonheads standing in the room. These were more similar in size to the first one they had seen. After Ginny nodded to them, they each began searching the boys. Starting with Dean, they pulled his machete, his cell phone, his lock picking set, and (much to his disappointment) his backup switchblade. From Sam, they pulled a second machete and his cell phone. Dean and Sam watched as every escape plan they had was handed to Ginny in the form of their contraband. Once she had everything in her possession, the Melonheads took their places at her sides.

"Well, well, well," she began, "some historical society lackeys we have here. Looks like you boys are in a _huge_ heap of trouble."

"Whatever, wavy gravy. I'm pretty sure you're in more trouble than we are," Dean spat back as he stopped his struggles and began thinking of a possible way to escape the death grip of the Melonheads. Those suckers were a lot stronger than they looked.

"Is that so?" she asked with a short guffaw, looking the boys up and down. "Unless you've got some sort of army-sized backup coming, I don't think you're going to get very far." She turned her attention back to her precious mutated army. "Lock 'em up, sweet things."

Sam and Dean were overpowered by the austere creatures and thrown into separate cages. Ginny stood back and watched the whole thing with a raucous smile plastered across her face.

"I think I'll give you boys a little while to think over your plight before we have some fun. I'm tired anyway; it's well past my bedtime."

Dean replied with a resounding, 'Go to hell," that seemed to fall upon deaf ears as Ginny began ascending the stairs with her scary assistants.

"Great," Sam finally said after a few seconds. "Just great. This just got a lot more complicated."

"Nah," Dean said confidently. "Just a slight change in plans. It's nothing we can't handle."

"Well, you can bet she'll be back," Eric began. "I'm sure she's got a whole slew of experiments she wants to try."

"Experiments? That's what she's been doing to you guys?" Dean asked, knitting his brow.

"Well, yeah, pretty much," Eric said, impassively.

Realization dawned on Dean's face. That was it. That was the crux of the operation. It wasn't about the Melonheads or eating people or anything. She wanted humans to experiment on.

"What kind of experiments?" Sam asked, then immediately regretted it.

"Not good ones. I'm honestly not even sure of everything she did to us. I know she pumped me full of drugs. And I'll have a few new scars after all of this. And those stupid Melonheads are her army of nurses. She said something about genetically mutating them to make them stronger and faster."

Brandon, who had been previously silent, gave a loud sigh. "She drugged me too. And cut me open. I don't know what for, but it's pretty freakin' messed up." He paused, lifting his shirt to reveal a five inch line, held together with stitches that traversed his stomach. "We're all gonna die here, aren't we?"

Sam and Dean heard a sniffle coming from the cage where the girl was.

"No, there's no way we're gonna let that happen. I may be damned, but I'm not gonna leave prematurely at the hands of some evil broad on a power trip," Dean said, with the most assuring tone he could muster up.

The other boy with dark brown hair finally spoke. "Yeah, and how exactly do you propose we get out of here? I'm pretty sure we're all locked up and there's no getting out of these things."

Sam looked over at him sadly. His hair was shaggy and a little long, it reminded Sam of how he styled his hair in high school. "It's Parker, right?" he asked, and then turned to the girl. "And Paige?"

"How do you know all of our names?" Paige asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"We've been looking for you. And we have some good friends that are gonna be looking for us too so don't worry. One way or another, we'll get out of here soon." All Sam could do was hope that the words he was saying were true. His heart ached for these kids because they were, well, they were just kids. It was scary enough being locked up at the hands of some psycho bitch at twenty-four, but being fifteen, he just couldn't imagine it.

While Sam gave his 'we'll be fine' speech, Dean examined the dilapidated cage he was in. Much to his dismay, despite the rust and obvious aging, it was as solid as ever. He tried pushing out with his feet on the side of the cage he deemed 'the weakest link' but nothing happened. Not a single crack came from the metal or any indication that it was even bending at all. It was disheartening.

"That's not gonna work, man," Eric said, watching Dean try to break open the cage. "I've tried everything. They don't look like much, but these things are completely bust-proof."

Dean tried again to bang his feet against the door. "I'll be … damned … if I let … this bitch … lay a single … hand on me," he got out between kicks before taking a breather.

"Seriously, you're just gonna tire yourself out. If anything, save your strength. Maybe when she comes to get you, you can try and fight off the 'heads and make a break for it."

Dean finally gave up and leaned his head against the back of the cage. Sighing loudly, he glanced at his watch. The numbers glared back at him, almost mockingly. They had only been at the Cavenaugh residence for twenty-five minutes, tops. It would be a few hours before Bobby began to worry. He would try calling their cell phones, which were who knows where after Ginny took them. Then it would take time for Bobby to either get there himself, or find someone who was closer to come to the rescue. Either way Dean looked at it, they had some time to kill.

"So how many Melonheads do you suppose there are?" Sam asked, trying to get a feel for what they were up against.

Brandon, Parker, and Eric looked at each other, trying to come up with some sort of figure.

"I don't know, maybe ten, fifteen?" Brandon said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Where does she keep them?" Dean asked, still confused at the brusque appearance of Melonheads by the highway as well as just a few moments ago in the basement.

"I'm pretty sure they either stay in the woods or possibly in the garage or something 'cause we're the only living things that stay down here," Eric replied.

"I can't just sit here and do nothing," Dean said, frustrated. "There has to be some way to get out of here. Or at least level the playing field."

"Seriously, if there was a way out, I think one of us would have found it by now," Eric said with a tinge of despair in his voice.

Suddenly, the lights to the basement turned off which returned the hostages to the pitch black. With no outside light whatsoever being let in through the windows, the basement had become a scary dungeon.

"Son of a bitch," Dean said, trying to adjust his eyes to the darkness. Even after they adjusted, he still couldn't see much.

"She usually only leaves the lights on when she's nearby. She always shuts them off when she leaves the house or goes to bed," Parker explained. "I'm surprised she leaves them on at all."

The too-small cage was already getting to Sam's back. With nothing else to do, he got into the most comfortable position he could manage and tried to relax. He was pretty sure he wouldn't be sleeping at all, which would actually be a blessing. He didn't need to be having shady dreams on top of his current predicament.


	10. Calling Dr Cavenaugh

AN: Sorry this chapter is a few hours late! Midnight came a lot faster than what I was expecting. I feel like I'm buried up to my ears in Psychology journals trying to write this paper. But posting the new chapter has given me an excuse to take a much needed break :)

So here it is. We're getting down to the nitty gritty with the story. Things are going to be pretty action-y for the next few chapters. Hope you enjoy. I look forward to hearing your thoughts! Also, here is your first little taste of Hurt!Sam. Much more to come next chapter.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10: Calling Dr. Cavenaugh<strong>

Dean dozed on and off throughout the night, trying to keep an eye on things and watch out for the crazy bitch who was now in possession of his and Sam's knives. Sam followed a similar pattern, trying like hell to come up with an escape plan. Unfortunately, the locks and cages were solid, they had no weapons, and it was pitch black. It looked like there was no getting out of this one. At least not without a bit of outside help or some extreme luck. Or both.

The blinding halogen lights came on early the next morning. Checking his watch, Dean groaned. _She couldn't have at least let us sleep past nine?_ Not that he had actually slept much to begin with but that wasn't the point.

As the minutes ticked by, more and more of the kidnapping victims were pulled out of their half-sleeping haze.

"So, how long do we have before she gets her Dr. Jeckyll/Mrs. Hyde on?" Dean asked no one in particular.

"Depends," Brandon answered. "Sometimes she'll be down right away, other times it will be a few hours before she makes it down here."

"Great. Well, I'm making a break for it as soon as she opens this thing," Dean said, determined to get out of the mess he and Sam had found themselves in.

"Watch it, man," Eric began with a cautionary tone. "Those Melonheads follow her around and obey her every word like trained attack dogs. I'm sure you noticed last night, but they're also a lot stronger than they look."

Dean wanted to make a smart comment about Eric taking on the role of Captain Obvious, but he held his tongue. The guy had been through enough, Dean had no right to jump down his throat, dire situation or not.

"Dean?" Sam called out quietly.

"Yeah Sam?"

"For once, I can honestly say, I wish I was short like you," he replied with a laugh.

"Living quarters getting a little cramped there, Sammy?"

"That's the understatement of the century. So what's the plan?"

Dean lowered his voice slightly, suddenly fearful of any unauthorized listeners that might have been around, and turned to look at his brother through the iron bars. "Well, I don't know who she's gonna want to play doctor with first, but regardless, if you get away, I want you to run for the door. Get out of here as fast as you can and call for help. Get whoever you can to come out here ASAP."

"But Dean, I can't just leave all of you here."

Dean knew Sam would probably question the order, and he was prepared for it. "That's exactly what you're gonna do." He watched as his brother tried to protest again, but caught him before he could say anything. "Sam, how exactly do you plan on fighting off the Melonheads and their fearless leader with no weapons while unlocking our cages at the same time?"

The silence gave Dean the answer he was looking for. He understood where Sam was coming from. He wouldn't want to leave his brother either, or anyone else for that matter. But it wouldn't do any good to stay and try and play the hero if all it would do was get him killed. If that happened, there wouldn't be hope for anyone. "Any idea where she keeps the contraband?" Dean asked hopefully, glancing down the row to the others.

His question was met with silence and the shaking of heads. Damn, he really needed to get a hold of that machete. Hacking off the heads of those things would bring him nothing but pleasure.

"Probably upstairs," Paige said, slipping her small hand through the bars of the cage to capture her brother's fingers waiting on the other side.

Dean nodded, trying to figure out a way to get up there without being stopped prematurely. Then again, that didn't really matter if he couldn't find a way out of the cage to begin with.

Suddenly, the door to the basement opened. Each prisoner turned their head towards the stairs and listened intently for the footsteps of Ginny Cavenaugh.

Sam and Dean could hear the creaking of the old wooden stairs under her feet, as well as the feet of who knew how many Melonheads. Dean glanced through to the other room and saw Ginny as she reached the bottom.

"Good morning," she said sweetly. She swiftly made her way over to the metal tables in the next room and began to, well, prepare them. Dean's eyes widened as he counted no less than six Melonheads mimicking their leader and preparing supplies. She pulled the stained scalpel from the sink and began to wash it while the others pulled fresh tools from the cabinets. Once she was satisfied with their work, Ginny turned and stood in the doorway, gazing at her hostages, one Melonhead pasted to her side.

"I hope you found your accommodations comfortable," she said, an evil glint appearing in her eyes.

"Actually, I was kind of hoping for a mint on my pillow, but I guess you get what you pay for," Dean replied without missing a beat.

The smaller Melonhead standing beside her shot a guttural growl in Dean's direction. Ginny patted it on the head. "Don't worry, you'll get your chance." She took a few steps closer. "As a matter of fact, the activities on the agenda for today could really work with either of our newcomers so I'm even going to let you pick who we start with."

The Melonhead looked up at her, waiting for some sort of instruction.

"Go ahead, honey. Take your pick."

The thing walked up to the cages, causing Sam and Dean to involuntarily move back defensively. It studied both of them before pointing a thin, discolored finger in Sam's direction. It was then that realization hit the boys like a ton of bricks. This particular Melonhead had a circular patch of discolored skin in the middle of its chest and beside that, a 'Sam's knife' sized wound that was partially stitched up. _This_ was the Melonhead he and Sam had fought in the woods. And it was pissed.

"Well Sam," she sneered, "Looks like you're lucky number one today." She turned around and addressed her minions. "Two, Eight, Nine, and Ten. Why don't you subdue our newest guest and get things all ready for him."

Two tall creatures and one short one stepped forward to follow her instructions. She held her hand out and dropped the master key into the hands of one of the creatures while the others gathered various tools.

"Don't you dare lay a hand on him," Dean said with as much anger as he could muster.

She simply laughed in return. "I hardly think you're in the position to be making demands right now, boy."

The lock on Sam's cage was unlocked and within a split second, he was reacting. He attempted to kick back as hard as he could to knock down the things that were trying to take him down, but it was no use. They were ready for him.

Oddly enough, Sam's brute strength was no match for the unnatural strength of the four Melonheads together. One of them moved in while the other three held Sam down. Sticking a thin, hypodermic needle into Sam's neck, it injected whatever the clear fluid was inside the syringe and within a few seconds, Sam quit fighting back.

"What the fuck did you do to him?" Dean hollered with rage, banging his fist on the side of the cage.

"Oh, cool your jets, Kojak. It's just a sedative. I wouldn't want him hurting my precious babies any more than he already has."

Dean stared in disbelief as Sam's limp body was dragged across the floor and hoisted on to the metal table. Ginny made quick work of strapping his head, legs, and arms into the restraints and draping an additional strap across his hips.

"You know what to do," she said to the creatures, heading back towards the stairs. "I've got a couple of things to take care of before we get started."

Dean watched helplessly as the Melonheads worked away, gathering instruments, bottles, and things Dean didn't even have a name for. He was speechless, something that was quite a rarity in his life. He didn't know what to do. His little brother was strapped down, about to be tortured and there was nothing he could do.

For the first time since they had arrived, a true feeling of despair came over him. He didn't want to give up, but he didn't know what else to do. There had to be some way to escape. Hell, they were Winchesters, they could find their way out of any tight spot – right?

Dean looked to the others, still locked in their cages. Their faces spoke volumes to him. How many different people would be affected if this woman had her way? Each person was connected to hundreds of other people, be it family members, friends, or acquaintances. He couldn't let that happen. If he was going to die, it was going to be from trying to save lives. Saving people, hunting things, the family business. His own words echoed through his mind and suddenly, a power surged through him that he didn't have just moments ago. He knew what he needed to do and nothing was going to stop him from doing it.

About ten minutes after Ginny had left, she returned. As she made her way around the room where Sam was held, she hummed a tune that had a certain 'Disney' ring to it.

"Lady, you are nine kinds of crazy," Dean said, shaking his head.

She stopped what she was doing and looked at Dean, a smile appearing on her face.

"Oh honey, I'm a lot of things, but crazy definitely isn't one of them. I'd say I'm a little closer to genius status."

Dean scoffed. "You managed to get a couple of mentally handicapped cogs to follow your orders. Bravo."

"No, no, no, my dear. These are not _cogs_," she said with disgust. "These are my babies."

"Lemme guess, the baby daddy was Godzilla."

"No, you imbecile, I created them. I modified their DNA, making them stronger than most humans." She approached one of the Melonheads and rubbed it gently on the head pushing around the few strands of hair. Dean watched as the creature leaned into her touch.

"You see, these poor things were just eggs frozen in a test tube, probably destined to be thrown out. I saved them and continued my grandfather's work." She sighed, "He was such a brilliant man, just a little before his time. I'm sure that, if given the chance, he would have won a Nobel Prize in Medicine."

Dean stared at her, confused. The creatures looked like the Melonheads that were from the Crowe legend. But she said she created them.

"Oh dear boy, you didn't seriously think these were the impaired kids with hydrocephalus that William worked with, did you? Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find kids with that disease, let alone capture them? Besides, he only worked with them because doing experiments on normal children was generally frowned upon.

"The genetic modification is what caused they're odd appearance; I'm still working out some of the kinks. My first generation turned out quite strong, but not very agile. My second generation is a little on the small side still, but they're fast. I have to say, I hit a home run with their invulnerability. Your pathetic attempts hardly scratched my baby."

She shook her head, refocusing herself on the creature beneath her hand and sighed softly. "I gave them life and, in return, they gave me their loyalty. It's really quite perfect."

"Oh yeah, sounds like it. By the way, don't forget to renew your subscription of Mad Scientist Weekly. I hear there's a great issue coming up on how to perfect your evil genius laugh."

Her smile didn't falter one bit. If anything, it intensified. "You poke fun at me now, you probably won't be doing that once your friend here wakes up and I get to have my fun." She turned her attention back to her 'kids' in the room. "Go ahead and get some rest. Five, you may stay." The creatures, with the exception of the wounded one, headed upstairs. 'Five' stood behind and waited for instructions from his creator.

"If you lay a finger on him, so help me God, I'll – "

"You'll what? Yell at me? Shake your fist? You're quite protective of him, aren't you? What is he, your boyfriend?"

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. "Why does everyone always think that?"

"Well, regardless, I don't think there's much you can do to stop me. You know, I'm usually pretty humane with my experimental subjects, ask your cage mates, but for some strange reason, I suddenly don't feel so giving. Not to mention," she said, rounding the metal table and placing a hand on Sam's shoulder, "I was dreaming all night about the various ways I could make him scream."

Dean kicked the iron cage angrily which was met with a demonic laugh from Ginny.

"Number Five, could you remove young Sam's shirt please? He's looking a little warm."

The Melonhead, or whatever it was, from the woods, or 'Number Five' as Dean now knew him, picked up a particularly scary-looking pair of shears from the metal tray and approached Sam. It gripped the bottom edge of the t-shirt with a shaky hand and began cutting the thin fabric.

Dean's stomach flopped inside of him. He didn't want to think about what Ginny could possibly have in store for his brother.

He was suddenly distracted as he heard a small, sharp intake of breath coming from Sam.

Ginny turned to investigate as well. As she approached, Number Five pulled its hand back to reveal a thin cut from the middle of Sam's abs to the bottom of his sternum.

"Number Five," she said sternly, "remember what I taught you about patience?" She sounded like a mother scolding her child.

Five looked down sheepishly and placed the scissors back on the tray.

"All in due time, child," Ginny said, taking a piece of gauze and wiping the small trail of blood from Sam's abdomen. "Now you may watch, but make sure you stay back until I tell you otherwise."

A moan suddenly escaped from Sam's mouth. Dean saw his eyes open and then close quickly, most likely from the assault of the bright lights suspended from the ceiling.

"What perfect timing. Looks like our prisoner is awake."


	11. Let the Fun Begin

AN: Sorry this is two days late. If anyone is thinking about trying the 'two jobs plus full time school' thing, I don't recommend it. It's really easy to forget about important things like posting chapters!

So welcome to the next chapter! Please read with caution as this does include some torture, though it's not too bad this time around. Also, I do not have a degree in biology or medicine or anything of the sort so I apologize for any errors in the information. Additionally, I am not advocating for stem cell research or anything; everything in this chapter is specifically for storytelling purposes.

Side note, thanks to the waves of people that reviewed last chapter. Okay, so I know that there were only six, but that's a pretty big jump compared to past chapters. So thanks SO much for reading and giving me your feedback. It helps a ton and is a real morale booster!

For warnings or disclaimer, please see Chapter 1.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 11: Let The Fun Begin<strong>

The first thing that pulled Sam from the fog was a tinge of pain coming from his stomach. His first instinct was to touch the wound and examine it, but when he tried, he realized that his hands had been rendered completely immobile. He opened his eyes in slight panic and was met with a bright, fluorescent light that intensified a headache he previously wasn't aware that he had.

Suddenly, a woman, who he eventually recognized as Ginny Cavenaugh, leaned over him, blocking the light.

"Good morning, sunshine."

Sam's gut tightened immediately. He struggled against the binds but was unsuccessful.

"Don't waste your energy, kid. There's no getting out of these," she said, patting the leather restraint wrapped around his wrist.

Sam looked at her, his eyes wide and full of anger.

"Oh, now don't be like that. This is gonna be fun … well, for me at least. You see, I'm always looking for ways to improve my babies. It would be nice if they had muscles like yours. Imagine how much stronger they would be!"

Her hands glided across Sam's large biceps and he flinched at the touch.

"Don't touch me," Sam said sternly through his gritted teeth.

She laughed. "You seriously think that's going to deter me? Then boy, you have got another thing comin'. But enough small talk. I think it's time to get started."

Ginny left Sam's field of vision and his heart began to thump in his chest. He wasn't scared by much, but he agreed with Dean on his dislike for humans. Demons and monsters he could deal with but humans were insane and unpredictable creatures. He strained to see what she was doing but being unable to move his head, he couldn't see much.

"Sammy, don't worry, I'm gonna get us out of here," Dean said from his cage. The doorway between the two rooms allowed him to see his brother and project his voice in Sam's direction. He didn't really want to watch, but he felt better knowing what was happening. It would be so much worse to have to hear his brother's screams and not know if he was okay.

Ginny suddenly reappeared and Sam began to gasp in pain. Dean watched helplessly as she pushed the tip of a knife into Sam's stomach.

"Dean," she said with a warning tone, "I suggest you keep your mouth shut or Sam here is gonna pay – big time. I would just shut the door, but it's just so much more entertaining with you watching."

Dean wanted to say something. He wanted to yell at her and call her a bitch. He wanted to go after her with a spray of expletives. But he couldn't bear to cause his brother any more pain.

She pulled the knife back, allowing Sam to breathe a small sigh of relief.

"That goes for you too, Sam. I don't really wish to hear any smart comments from you either. Though, feel free to scream as much as your heart desires. In fact, I encourage it."

Sam tried to focus his mind. If she wanted him to scream, then he was going to do everything possible to keep that from happening. He may not be able to fight back, but keeping quiet, he could handle. Plus, he had to stay strong for Dean.

"Alrighty then, now that the ground rules are set, let's get this show on the road."

Her jovial tone made Dean want to puke. He looked around rapidly, desperate for some kind of escape route so he could rescue his brother from the hands of the psychotic woman before she had time to do serious damage.

He didn't see anything within reach that would help his escape. Dean figured his best bet would be to return to the basics so he started to examine the cage he was held in and the lock keeping it closed.

Dean glanced at the other hostages who looked at him with despair and sadness. He looked away quickly, not wanting to distract himself from the task at hand.

Sam strained again to see what she Ginny doing as she picked up a wad of gauze and a dark brown bottle. She opened the bottle and covered the opening with the gauze, tipping it to the side and letting a generous amount soak into the cloth.

"Did you know that muscle cells contain a protein that allows them to find other muscle cells and fuse together?" She continued on, obviously not expecting a reply from her unwilling patient. "It's really quite fascinating. No matter what purpose the cells served before, if they are placed in a new environment, they will fuse to the nearest cells and take on that purpose."

Ginny wiped the gauze across a small section of Sam's exposed left bicep giving the skin a slight yellow-orange tinge.

"It's part of what I focused my doctorate research on at UCLA. But those bastards wouldn't allow me to carry out any of my experiments. The review board claimed they were inhumane. Ha! Inhumane … I would have put the patients under anesthesia and done everything in a controlled environment. But no, they chose to miss out on a groundbreaking study opportunity. So they forced me to carry things out by myself."

Dean couldn't believe that she just kept on talking. He didn't give a damn about her research – no matter how groundbreaking she claimed it to be. What he wanted to know was why no one had ordered a psych evaluation when she had put in her research request. The naivety of humans sometimes was shocking to him.

"Sam, you could be a _very_ big asset to my research," she continued, picking up a scalpel from the tray.

Pulling the skin on his bicep taught, she carefully sliced through it like butter. Sam groaned but tried to hold his composure. Dean could see his brother's head shaking a slight amount from his muscles being clenched so tightly.

After passing the scalpel through the three layers of Sam's skin, she pulled the skin back and made a second cut into his muscle. Sam tried to breathe through the pain, but it was proving too difficult.

"Ah!" It came out as more of a gasp, but nevertheless, the message was delivered to his brother. Dean was angry, even more so now that his brother was in obvious pain and he couldn't do anything about it. He tried once again to break the point in his caged that he had deemed the weakest link, but to no avail.

Ginny was overjoyed with the reaction she was creating in her unwilling patient. She made a few more cuts that had Sam shaking underneath the restraints before finally pulling out a small tissue sample and placing it in a sterile bowl on the metal tray.

Sam released the breath of stale air he had been holding and took another deep breath in to combat the pain in his arm.

"Now you know we can't just leave it like that. I definitely don't want any infections setting in. I'm going to need you to last a while if I'm going to be able to accomplish anything. It's a shame though; you'll probably only need seven or eight stitches."

Pulling out the curved needle and the synthetic thread, she quickly got to work on causing Sam even more pain, although what she didn't know was that Sam was used to anesthetic-free stitch jobs. It didn't make the experience any more pleasant, but it was at least a little more bearable for him.

When she finished, she wiped a peroxide soaked piece of gauze over the newly closed incision and went to a nearby sink to wash her hands.

"This is only the beginning, Sam. I have big plans for you."

Sam groaned. It wasn't the first time he'd heard that and the last time didn't turn out too well for anyone involved. Would there ever be a point in his life where he could create his own path instead of being a part of all these malicious plans of others?

"Now that we're finished with that, I think it's time to move on to something with a little more potential than muscle cells. Your stem cells would be invaluable to me, Sam. I've been waiting for someone as – perfect – as you to come along. I hadn't realized how slim my subject selection would be out here, nothing but a bunch of overweight hicks. It would have been nice to have the advantage of UCLA's random assignment process. It took my babies a little time to learn what type of human makes a good specimen for research. The old guy they brought the first time was much too old and the kids, while young and healthy, weren't quite physically mature enough to provide what I was looking for. They were good substitutes though until they brought me Eric. You middle aged ones are so perfect for research, but I digress.

"Stem cells are really one of the most fascinating things about the human body. I will never understand why so many are against the research. One day those people will come down with some debilitating disease and the technology to save them will not be available."

She laughed heartily, walked back over to him and placed her hand just above his recently injured arm, causing him to involuntarily flinch. "Look at me going on and on, I'm sure you don't feel like being bored to death with all the specifics. Let me skip ahead to the juicy stuff. I'm going to harvest your peripheral blood stem cells and use them in the next generation of children."

She walked away again and Sam, in response, pulled against the straps, trying to see what she was doing.

"Most living stem cell donors receive injections of Filgrastim over about two weeks. It's a synthetic protein created to imitate the effects of the protein made naturally in the human body. There are usually very few peripheral blood stem cells in the blood so the protein will increase the amount of cells available for harvest. I don't really have two weeks to spare if people are coming for you like you said they were, not that I think they'll actually find you, but we can't take any chances. It's always better to plan ahead."

Dean became visibly agitated. He wouldn't have put it past her to be listening in to their conversations, but he was really hoping that she wouldn't. So much for having a secret plan.

She returned to Sam's side carrying two large syringes and a pair of alcohol wipes. "So we're just gonna give you that two week dose now. That way, the cells should be ready to harvest by tomorrow."

Ginny unwrapped an alcohol pad and rubbed it over the skin in the crook of Sam's left elbow.

Sam watched, eyes wide, as she slid the needle beneath his skin and began injecting the protein. Almost immediately, his arm felt like it was on fire. His breathing turned into short gasps as he squeezed his hands into tight fists.

"Oh yeah," she said casually, "I forgot to tell you that it causes a little bit of burning as it goes in. It's usually not a problem but most patients receive about one-sixteenth of the amount I'm giving you now."

She pressed a clean piece of gauze to the injection site to stop the bleeding and the moved to repeat the procedure on Sam's right arm.

"No," he gasped, trying again to break the hold that the restraints had on him.

"Shh, shh, shh, it's almost over."

The pain seemed to increase tenfold now that he was feeling it in both arms. Spots cascaded across his vision as his breathing became quicker and even more shallow.

Once the last of the protein had entered Sam's bloodstream, Ginny disposed of the syringes and went on humming the happy tune from earlier.

Dean watched with despair as Sam continued to writhe on the table. He didn't know anything about Filgrastim but getting that much of it at once couldn't possibly be safe. Looking over, he noticed Paige quietly sobbing. She was downright terrified. He squeezed his fists in anger and examined the room for the hundredth time trying to find something he could use to escape.

Appearing back at his side, the woman frowned and touched Sam's cheek gently. "Oh honey, you're looking a little under the weather. Don't worry, that feeling should go away soon." She laughed heartily. "What am I talking about? I've never done this before! I don't know if it will go away or not, but you can always hope, right?"

Not only was the bitch crazy and evil, but she was cruel. No, she was beyond cruel.

Sam tried his hardest to pull away from her touch, despite her cool skin feeling so nice against his fevered cheek.

"Five! Bring me another dose of Thiopental for our patient and then go get your brothers. It's time to move Sam back to his temporary home."

Not wasting any time, the monstrosity disappeared and then returned seconds later. The pre-filled syringe was deftly taken and the medicine injected, thankfully, into Sam's neck, avoiding his already greatly abused arms.

Sam's breathing quieted down allowing Dean to relax a little for the first time since the day had begun. He didn't know what she had done to his brother, but more than anything, he couldn't handle watching him be tortured.

The other creatures returned and Sam was picked up and moved back into the cage next to Dean.

"I'm going to let you two chill out for a while. I have some errands that I need to run. But no funny business. Rest assured, they will be monitoring you," she said, motioning to her test-tube creations. She then turned and walked upstairs with her 'children'.


	12. Amscray

AN: Alright. This chapter is a bit on the short side. Okay, a lot on the short side. But that's how it works out sometimes.

On the upside, I'm posting this chapter a day early because tomorrow is my Mom's birthday so I will be with her most of the day. Spend time with your Mom while you can, folks. This public service announcement brought to you by Sam & Dean :)

Thanks to all the wonderful reviewers! I'm so glad you are enjoying the story! I smile like a crazed idiot whenever I get a review from you guys. And thanks to the rest of you that have added this to your fave stories/alert lists. You're all fantastic!

Final note: How about that season 7 premiere? I see more amazing things in the future for this ridiculously awesome show.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 12: Amscray<strong>

**The previous night, around 4am:**

"Damnit, boys!" Bobby Singer ended the call on his cell phone after getting Dean's voicemail for the fourth time.

"What's up, Bobby?" Raymond C. Adams, known in the hunting world simply as 'Adams', looked up at his friend as he washed the blood of a very stubborn succubus off his hands. He was slightly older than Bobby, but still very agile. His hair was white and, luckily for him, still very thick. He had hunted with Bobby a few times in the past; they always seemed to make a pretty good team.

"It's the Winchesters, John's boys. They're working the Melonhead case up in Michigan. Their phones are going straight to voicemail. I'm pretty sure they both got themselves in trouble and I'm gonna have to go save their asses."

"Well, I'd say we're about done here. What's it? Like three, four hours to get up there? We'll grab 'em and be back to Sioux Falls in no time."

"Yeah, I sure as hell hope so. Idjits."

**Present:**

"Sammy?" Dean whispered softly after hearing some unintelligible phrase uttered by his brother.

Sam, hearing Dean's voice, worked even harder at pulling himself out of the drug induced sleep Ginny had placed him in – but it was proving to be harder than he thought it would be. Beneath the cloud of drugs, the pain was just a distant memory, but as he tried to bring himself closer to his brother, it became more like déjà vu. He remembered how it felt to have that protein burning him from the inside out.

"Come on, Sammy, you can do it. Wake up for me, buddy." Dean was desperate to see his brother's eyes. He needed to see that he was okay.

Sam pushed aside the residual pain and opened his eyes just wide enough to form a blurry image of his cage and, eventually, his brother.

"Atta boy. That's it."

"Ugh, D'n?"

"Yeah, Sammy, it's me. How're you feeling?"

"Great, 'm w'nderful," Sam murmured back.

"Yeah, I can see that, hot shot. What hurts?"

Sam sat for a moment, still trying to overcome the grogginess. "My arm," he said, finally, taking a peak at his stitched up bicep. "Dean?"

"Yeah, Sam?"

"I'm really tired. 'm gonna go back to sleep."

"Okay, that's fine. Rest. I'll still be here when you wake up."

As much as he preferred to have his brother awake, he knew that the pain would be dealt with much easier if he was asleep. Dean watched with remorse as Sam tried to get comfortable. After a few seconds, he gave up, utterly exhausted, and settled for sleeping while sitting up.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Parker whispered after Sam had relaxed.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, he's gonna be fine. We all will." He laughed, thinking over everything that had happened over the previous two years. "If you had any idea how many times we've been in a tight spot, your head would spin."

Just then, a glint of something caught Dean's eye.

"Eric, do you see that?" Dean pointed to the top of a stack of boxes sitting beside Eric's cage.

Eric craned his neck to look through the bars. "What is that? A rod?"

"Yeah, I think so, something like that. Think you can make it fall?"

Eric reached out, his fingertips just barely touching the cardboard. "Possibly, let me give it a try."

The boxes weren't empty. They were filled with something rather heavy which made it difficult for Eric to make them move at first. Eventually, with each bit of added force to his pushes, the boxes swayed a little more. He glanced up and saw the rod rolling gently about halfway back and forth.

"Come on, come on," Eric whispered, trying to push lightly enough that the boxes wouldn't topple over, but forcefully enough that the rod would fall on his side.

All five of them watched with trepidation as the piece of metal rolled back and forth on top of the cardboard box. Finally, there was a short 'clang' as the rod collided with the tiled floor.

"Can you reach it?" Brandon asked hopefully.

Eric tried to reach father out from the cage, but found himself about three inches shy. "No, my arm's too damn short."

Dean thought for a moment before giving the 'duh' face and taking off his watch.

"Here, this might help," he said, sticking his hand through the top of the cage. Pulling his wrist back as far as possible, he tossed the watch over Sam's cage and to the top of Brandon's.

Brandon reached his hand through and gripped the watch. He passed it through to Paige, who gave it to her brother, who finally got it to Eric.

As the watch was being passed, Dean glanced over to Sam to make sure he was still breathing. Relief flooded him as he saw his brother's broad chest rise slowly and then fall. Beads of sweat rested on his forehead, but it didn't seem to bother him any.

Eric gripped the watch and hoped the natural bend in the strap would work as a good enough hook to pull the rod closer. He held one end of the band in his right hand, which was outstretched towards the vital tool, and flicked his wrist up to send the other end of the band lunging at the metal piece. It fell short and scampered back towards its matching end. Eric tried again two – three – four times before finally huffing in frustration.

Dean suddenly looked with alarm towards the basement stairs after hearing the creak of the door. "She's coming back," he whispered.

**Earlier that morning:**

"You tellin' me that Sam didn't bother to say where they would be?" Adams asked as they drove into the Saugatuck city limits.

"Not exactly. He said somethin' about checking on a woman who bought the original Crowe estate. I don't know why I didn't think to ask where the place was. But I do know where they're stayin'. If we can get out there, we can probably figure out where they were headed."

"Bobby, you're gettin' slow in your old age."

"Watch who you're callin' slow, old-timer." Bobby rolled his eyes at the seasoned hunter and pressed harder on the gas. He couldn't afford to waste any time.

**Present:**

Eric focused even harder on the task at hand and tried again. His movements became frenzied as he heard the footsteps get closer and closer to the basement landing. Finally, the metal rod rolled closer underneath the metal clasp of the watch band. He reached out at lightning speed and turned the rod sideways to pull it into the cage. He was able to hide it and the watch just moments before three creatures, without their female counterpart, joined their company, one of which was 'Five'.

No words were uttered as the creatures stared intensely at the prisoners. They surrounded them, checking every lock on every cage. 'Five' stopped in front of Sam's sleeping form, scrutinizing him with its discolored eyes.

Dean watched as it reached its hand through the bars to take hold of Sam's index finger.

"Get your filthy hands off him you son of a bitch!" Dean yelled.

The thing paid no attention to his outburst. It pulled Sam's finger, along with the rest of his hand, towards the bars. Sam moaned in sleepy confusion and tried to pull his hand back to his side. It was no use though. Once his finger was dragged between the bars, the thing began bending it backwards. Sam's eyes snapped open as the pain registered. With a quick crack, Five broke Sam's finger.

"Ahh!" Sam screamed, still trying to get his bearings.

"I am going to kill you with my bare hands, you piece of shit," Dean said, screaming right into the creature's face.

The monster growled in return and turned his head towards one of the top corners of the room.

Following his line of sight, Dean saw the small, blinking red light of a video camera. Great. Now not only is she listening in, she's watching like an obsessed perv. But there was one reason for Dean to thank his lucky stars; apparently the operation to retrieve the metal rod was just out of the camera's sight because none of the creatures made any attempt to steal the vital tool back from the group.

The three things went back upstairs, leaving the prisoners alone – well, physically alone at least.

"Sam, you okay?"

Sam began laughing hysterically. "Yeah, I'm great – no, amazing. I'm amazing."

Dean knew it was now or never. He had to get Sam to a hospital. "Eric," Dean said, motioning for him to pass the steel rod he had recently acquired.

Glancing up at the camera, Eric kept the rod behind his back and sent it on its way.

**A Little later that morning:**

"Okay, hot-shot, now what?"

Adams and Bobby stood in the boys' room at the Arrowhead Motel gazing at the few newspaper articles taped to the walls.

"Look around and see if you can find anything that says where they might be," Bobby replied with a 'do I seriously have to explain this to you?' tone.

Bobby found the copies of the police files and sifted through them but found nothing of import.

"Hey, maybe there's something on this contraption?"

Bobby looked up and saw Adams holding onto Sam's laptop. "Yep, I would bet so. Check the internet history."

Adams looked at him like he was speaking jibberish. "Check the what? What makes you think I know how to use this thing?"

Bobby rolled his eyes and grabbed the laptop from him. "I'll take care of it, old-timer."

Adams looked like he wanted to take offense to the statement, but ended up smiling instead.

Bobby powered up the computer and found the USB modem still sitting on the bedside table. Within minutes, he had the history pulled up and was going through the Allegan County Property Records Database, taking a path nearly identical to Sam's. It took longer than what he was hoping. He couldn't explain the feeling in his stomach, but it was telling him that something was wrong and he needed to hurry.

**Present:**

Once Dean had the rod safely between his fingers, he knew what he had to do. "Sam, can you walk?" he whispered.

Sam opened his eyes and looked at Dean. He looked away just long enough to check the stability of his muscles. "Yeah, I think so."

Dean looked at the offending lock and shrugged. "Here goes nothing."


	13. Let's Blow This Popsicle Stand

AN: Here's the next chapter! This one's pretty big compared to the last two. But we've got some fun action and some partial resolution. But no worries, there's still five chapters to go :) Thanks to everyone for your feedback. I absolutely love reading all of your comments.

Also, I have to say, bravo to the VFX department for those Leviathan mouths last week. Just incredible. How fun would it be to have that job?

For warnings or disclaimer, please see Chapter 1.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 13: Let's Blow This Popsicle Stand<strong>

Dean slipped the piece of steel through the bar and inside the circular space created by the lock looping through the hole on the cage. He began to pull down, trying to use the rod to either break open the padlock, or break the part of the cage it was looped through.

The lock made no indication of moving, which didn't surprise Dean in the least. He figured it would take a bit of work to weaken the metal. He continued to pull the rod down with short bursts of strength. Frustration slowly etched its way across his face as the lock continued to show no signs of giving in.

Dean glanced again at his sickly brother laying two feet away. He focused his anger on breaking the lock and suddenly, he felt his hands dip down. His eyes lit up, expecting to find the mangled remnants of the lock hanging.

Instead, what he found was a steel rod broken in half, the individual pieces too small to do much else with.

"God damnit!" Red flooded Dean's vision. The padlock was a lot stronger than what he had originally anticipated and apparently, the rod was a lot weaker than what he was planning on.

Parker sighed loudly. "Great. This is great. How the hell are we supposed to get out of here now?"

Dean wanted to yell at the kid but he couldn't bring himself to do it. That kid was just as freaked out as he was about the whole situation, probably more. Dean slammed the piece of the rod remaining in his hand on the bottom of the cage. The sharp end bit into the palm of his hand. Swearing under his breath, he dropped the offending piece and sucked the quickly pooling blood from his palm.

To say Dean was mad would be an insult to the English language. He was angry, vehement, furious, enraged.

Dean was always the master of getting out of sticky situations. Rope? No problem. Handcuffs? Child's play. Zip ties? Now you're just messing with me. Padlock? Apparently a lot more complicated than it looks.

Dean began to rigorously search the room again, looking for a 'Plan D'. He couldn't give up. Giving up would mean sacrificing his little brother to the bitch with the scalpel.

His eyes fell upon a discarded Red Bull can lying on the floor two feet from his cage. He picked up the broken piece of metal he had thrown away only moments before and scrutinized the ravaged end of the rod. It was sharp. Was it sharp enough to cut through aluminum? There was only one way to find out.

Dean reached out, stretching his muscles as far as he could force them to. He brushed his fingertips against the can, helping it roll closer to him. He snatched up the narrow cylinder and began to work at cutting off the bottom and top, using the broken rod like an X-acto knife.

Eric watched Dean with skeptical eyes. "What's with the MacGyver act?"

"When I was fourteen, I was dating this girl, Ashley Wilkinson." His eyes glazed for a moment, overcome with nostalgia and lust. "Ashley was a babe – just amazing. And she was a sophomore in high school. She was a little out of my league, sure, but apparently my charm made up for the deficit. So there was this senior, Troy something-or-other, that decided he would try to make a move on her at the Varsity football game." The words came out rushed as he focused on cutting the aluminum can into six small strips.

"The week after, I learned from a friend how to use a soda can to open padlocks. So, I broke into his gym locker and stole his clothes while he was showering after practice." He made a few distinct bends in each of the strips and then cut off the extra, leaving an 'M' shaped piece.

"Shoulda seen his face. Ashley thought I was cool before, but I definitely hit a new high after that."

Once all the pieces were identical, Dean picked one up and toyed with it for a moment. "Now comes the hard part."

After glancing at the camera in the corner, Dean gripped the piece and carefully slipped both hands on either side of the lock. Looping the aluminum around the latching portion, he carefully forced the 'V' shaped part into the place at which the metal was meant to latch.

Dean's tongue stuck out of his mouth just a little as his concentration increased ten-fold. He turned the aluminum piece a full 180 degrees and jiggled the lock around it. Sweat began to bead on his forehead. This was his last hope. If this didn't work, he didn't know what else to do.

Finally, the latch gave way and popped open. Dean's hands shook as he removed the lock and pushed open the cage door. Knowing he only had a few seconds to get out and begin working on the other locks before company showed up, he threw his body into overdrive. He gave himself a few short seconds to breathe before grabbing the other 'Red Bull' lock breakers and began work on Eric's cage, passing up Sam's for the time being.

"Pay attention to what I'm doing," he said in a gruff, commanding tone. "I'm going to need your help to get everyone else out."

Eric studied Dean's movements carefully and then accepted two of the aluminum pieces to begin trying to free Paige and Parker.

Dean stepped back and realized he was left with a tough decision. Should he get Brandon or Sam out first? What if he ran out of time before he was able to get to his brother? Dean realized that the more time he spent debating who to rescue first, the bigger chance he took of not being able to rescue anybody.

He got right to work on Brandon's lock. "Try to find something to chop their freaking heads off. It's the only way to kill them." They'd never really had a chance to test that theory, but it was the best working lead he had. Dean's words were followed by the opening of the basement door and rapid, messy footsteps descending the stairs.

It was go-time. As soon as Brandon was free, he climbed out and joined Parker in the makeshift procedure room to try to find anything they could use as a weapon.

Dean took the last slip of aluminum and worked on the lock on Sam's cage. As soon as it gave way, he threw open the door and grabbed his brother's uninjured hand. "Come on Sam, let's get you outta here."

Sam did his best to help Dean pull his large, weakened body up until he was finally vertical. His legs shook a little from the unexpected weight being placed on them.

Dean knew Sam wouldn't be much help in his current state but he didn't want to leave him unprotected. He looked around until he was able to find a large, iron wrench leaned up against a wall. He picked it up and gave it a 'trial run' swing through the air. It was definitely heavy. It wouldn't kill any of those things, but it might get them away from Sam until someone else could provide assistance.

Dean went back to his brother. Placing one arm around his back and pulling Sam's arm around his neck, he helped his brother get across the room to the wall beside the doorway.

"Stay here," Dean said sternly. "You're too weak to fight. Just stay here, get your strength up, and get ready to run. I'm going to try and take care of 'em before they can get anywhere near this room but if any of 'em break through and start to attack you, yell for me and swing away." Dean pressed the wrench into Sam's hand and looked at him waiting for the nod indicating he had understood the directions.

Sam gave Dean the nod he was looking for and gathered all his strength together. He wasn't going to be 'the helpless one'. He was going to do whatever it took to make sure they all made it out. Soon, Sam's concentration and adrenaline allowed the pain he was feeling to slowly become background noise.

Once Dean was sure Sam could stand on his own, he turned around to check out the state of his fellow escapees. Two creatures had made it to the bottom of the stairs and began throwing punches at the revolting prisoners and trying to overpower them. Eric had managed to get a scalpel, which gave him a slight edge, no pun intended, but wasn't much help in beheading the things.

Dean ran to his cage and picked up the broken rod he had used to cut the Red Bull can and jumped in to help. Just as he started in on the second one, giving Parker a short break, two more monsters came barreling down the basement stairs.

It was set up to be a losing fight, but Dean knew he couldn't give up. Using the broken rod to hold back the creatures trying to attack, he scaled the room looking for anything else that would help. Glancing down, he saw Paige hiding underneath the lab table. He prayed that they wouldn't find her.

Suddenly, the door to the outside opened up. Dean nearly cried out in frustration at the sound. One to one odds weren't great, considering the strength of the test-tube creations, but it was almost manageable. They couldn't take on any more of them. His back was to the door, but he had a feeling he was going to die very soon.

Dean looked over in panic to see a creature making its way over to Sam. He pushed off the creature currently in his path and ran to Sam as quickly as possible. The thing managed to duck in time to miss the swing of Sam's wrench and then deliver a hard punch to Sam's stomach, pushing him against the wall.

Dean stabbed the thing in its neck with his broken metal rod. The creature turned around angrily and managed to reach up high enough to take hold of Dean's neck and squeezed. He instinctively wrapped his hand around the creature's wrist trying to pull its hand off of him. Choking was one of Dean's least favorite ways to die. A moment after the thought crossed his mind, he was covered in genetically engineered blood. He had to blink his eyes a few times to understand what he was seeing. Standing before him with a bloody machete was the one and only Bobby Singer.

"Oh God, Bobby," he said after taking in a large breath to re-inflate his oxygen deprived lungs. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you."

"Yeah, so I figured. You might want one of these." Bobby handed him a machete. Dean smiled, ready to rock and roll.

Dean followed and was pleasantly surprised to find a hunter friend of Bobby's, who he recognized as Adams, also getting in on the fight. Within a few moments, each of the four Melonhead-looking monsters was laying on the once clean, tiled floor.

"Hey Adams. Good to see ya," Dean said, once the last Melonhead had dropped to the floor.

"You too, Dean. Didn't quite expect to see ya under these circumstances, kid."

"Yeah, well," Dean wasn't sure how to finish the sentence. He couldn't remember the last time they saw another hunter under _good_ circumstances.

"Everyone okay?" Adams asked, looking at the other hostages.

They nodded, but were obviously shaken.

"Bobby, there's more, I just don't know where they all are," Dean said, rushing back to his brother.

"Well best bet now is to high tail it outta here," Bobby said, assessing Sam as they approached. "Now what the hell happened to your brother?"

"I'll explain later." Dean wanted nothing more than to get as far away from that place as possible. "How're you feelin' Sammy?"

"I'm fine. We need to go. She's gonna be back."

"I know, Sam, we'll leave as soon as possible," Bobby said, concerned with the young boy's flushed skin and bloodshot eyes.

Adams gave the kids and Eric each their own weapons, instructing them to use them carefully and watch were they were swingin'.

The journey out of the basement was slow going with Sam as weak as he was. Dean and Bobby helped him up each step, leading the group back out into the cold. Adams had the end covered to make sure no others entered the basement from the house.

Once outside, Sam began to shiver.

"Come on, Sam, let's get you to the car," Bobby said, trying to navigate through the snow and support Sam without tripping. If he went down, they'd all go down.

Once they made it a few yards from the basement stairs, they heard a vehicle coming quickly down the two track. Sam's body involuntarily tensed and the entire group froze in fear.

The Cadillac pulled into the driveway and stopped immediately. The driver side door flew open and Ginny Cavenaugh stepped out.

"Aww hell," Adams said, readying his machete.

"What the hell is going on here?" she screamed, nearly tripping over her own feet. She was definitely stunned.

Hearing the commotion from their (originally) fearless leader, the remaining monsters filed out from the side door on the garage.

"Stay with your brother, Dean. We've got this. Don't let him outta your sight!"

Dean ushered Sam to a nearby tree for safety. With hunters and hostages finally yielding useful weapons, the fight was a short one. Heads were flying this way and that and with her little soldiers out of the way, Adams easily overpowered the petite woman.

One monster slipped through the hunter battalion and made a beeline for Sam and Dean. Within seconds, Dean recognized it as 'Five', the finger-breaking kiss ass that chose Sam to be Dr. Evil's first big patient.

"Oh no you don't," Dean said, leaning Sam up against the tree and getting his machete into prime chopping position.

With one quick swipe, the thing's head was rolling through the light, fluffy snow, leaving a trail of blood behind it. But that wasn't enough. Dean leaned over the headless body and went to town.

"This is for my brother you stupid son of a bitch!" With each descent of the blade, another piece of the body was cut in half until the remaining pieces were too small to make slicing them worthwhile.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, kid, I think it's dead. You can stop." Bobby came up behind Dean and lightly placed a hand on his shoulder.

Dean still had fury in his eyes when he stood up. He took a few slow breaths and relaxed his arms at his sides. "Yeah, I know. I'm good." He walked back over to Sam to make sure he was still upright.

"Alright. Adams has the bitch tied up for now. An ambulance is on its way."

Dean looked Sam over again. "We're in the middle of nowhere. I don't think we can wait for an ambulance, Bobby. We need to get him to a hospital now."

Bobby nodded. If anyone knew Sam, it was Dean and if Dean was the one advocating for the hospital, you damn well better listen to him.

"Okay, give me the short rundown of events. Let's get to the car and get him into town."

Bobby let Adams know where they were headed and to find him when they got to the hospital with the rest of the hostages while Dean got Sam settled in the back of the Impala. He had no qualms about handing over the keys to Bobby. All he wanted was for Sam to be okay.

"You can't keep relying on me to rescue you idjits, ya know," Bobby said, starting up the classic car.

Dean cracked a small smile as he glanced at his father-figure. "Thanks, Bobby, really."

* * *

><p>AN2: Okay, so I've got to come clean just a little. I usually just post the chapter and whatever you guys think, you think. I don't like to say what I thought of something I wrote because I don't want to sway your opinions, hence me putting this at the end rather than the beginning. But I think it's important for you to know that I revised this chapter SO MUCH over the last week. I felt like the fight was a little anti-climactic mostly because writing fighting scenes isn't a strength of mine. So I'm sorry if anything seemed a little light or like it didn't live up to expectations. I promise the rest of this story will be back on par with the other chapters. Thanks for your patience and for sticking with me through this! You guys rock!<p> 


	14. The Damage is Done

AN: Here's the next chapter! I only did a quick read through so hopefully there aren't a ton of mistakes. Thanks to everyone who has recently added this gem to their favorite and alert lists! Also, thanks A TON to all of you that have been reviewing! I appreciate the kind words passed along about the last chapter; they really meant a lot. Thanks especially to dannidoodles, twomom, LeighAnnWallace, SPN Mum, and RogueStorm84. You guys rock!

I don't want to hold you up any longer with the boring stuff. Read on and feel free to offer comments, suggestions, criticisms by leaving a review!

For warnings or disclaimer, please see Chapter 1.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 14:<strong>** The Damage is Done**

"I need to speak with Sheriff Meyers," Bobby said while on the phone with the Saugatuck Police Department.

The cops were sure gonna be surprised when they got there. The group left a war zone at the woman's house. There were heads and bodies littered all over the front yard as well as the mess that had been left in the basement.

Bobby explained the situation to the sheriff as well as he could while he broke every speed limit on the way into town. He started out by communicating Ginny's address and making sure they got right on the manhunt (well, womanhunt, but who's gives a damn about political correctness?) which wouldn't be too difficult since Adams had the bitch tied up like a Christmas present, minus the bow.

Bobby then recounted the fight and let the sheriff know that they were on their way to the hospital. There was a pause, which Dean was sure was probably filled with a few confused questions from the police department that lived behind the eight ball.

"I'll explain more at the ER. Make sure they know we're comin'. See you soon." Bobby hung up the phone and glanced in the back seat. "How's he doing, Dean?"

"I don't know, Bobby. He's still burning up."

"'m fine," Sam mumbled, wrapping his arms around his stomach.

"Yeah, I can see that," Dean rolled his eyes but knew deep down that if it were him in that situation, he would be saying the same thing. "No worries, we'll get you fixed up real soon. We can't leave your girlfriend from the bar waiting too long."

Sam chuckled lightly and then grimaced in pain.

"Sam, what else hurts?"

"It's nothin'," he replied, taking a breath and repositioning his head against the seat.

Dean looked down and noticed his brother's arms crossed over his stomach protectively. "Is it your stomach? You think you're gonna be sick?"

Sam shook his head. "I'll be fine."

"Well that's a good thing. I couldn't have you pukin' in my car. If you think you're gonna throw up, you'd better tell me so I can throw your ass out on the curb."

Sam tried to fight the smile but it plastered his face in half a second. "No, I'm fine, I swear. I think I'm just sore from being stuck in that damn cage for so long."

"Well, life is hard for you sasquatch types, isn't it?" Dean asked, smiling.

"Jerk."

Dean smiled. "Bitch." It was good to know his brother was still acting like himself. Though, he was almost positive that the pain was much more serious than muscle soreness.

"How close are we?" Dean asked the current driver of the Impala.

"Should be there in ten minutes or so."

Dean leaned back against the seat and watched Sam's chest rise and fall. He hoped that whatever that bitch did to his brother wouldn't cause lasting damage.

Bobby pulled in to the ER and was relieved to see a doctor and a few nurses waiting with a wheelchair, ready to begin treating Sam.

"Sam, wake up, we're here," Dean said, gently patting his non-stitched arm.

Sam opened his eyes and blinked a few times. He hadn't been sleeping, but rather just resting his eyes. Feeling every bump in the road as a steady rhythm helped take his mind off the pain.

Dean opened the door and was approached by a tall woman with long, dark brown hair, pulled back with a hair tie.

"I'm Doctor Laura Thorpe. What's your name?"

Had the circumstances been any different, Dean would have hit on her so fast, it would have made her head spin, but they weren't. Instead, he ignored her question and got right to the important parts.

"It's not me, it's my brother, Sam. This crazy bitch cut his arm open and took some muscle tissues out or whatever, then stitched him back up and pumped him full of some crazy drug."

Laura helped Dean move Sam from the Impala to a waiting wheelchair and gasped quietly when she noticed the condition of the shirtless man's left arm. The stitching was sub-par, at best. It would need to be cleaned up and re-stitched. Laura grimaced. She didn't want to know what else had happened to all those people.

"Dean, stay with your brother," Bobby yelled from the driver's seat. "I'm gonna park the car and I'll be right there."

Dean nodded, glancing up only briefly to confirm.

A nurse pushed Sam into the ER entrance and down the hall and into an exam room. Dean, not surprisingly, stayed plastered to Sam's side. For the first time since they had escaped, Dean noticed that both of Sam's arms where the injections had taken place were red and irritated. The sight made Dean even more angry at the crazy woman who had held them both hostage.

"I'm Katie, I'll be your nurse here for a little while," the woman said that had pushed Sam into the hospital. Taking one of his hands, she assisted Dean in getting him up on the bed.

Katie smiled at Sam and handed him a gown. "You're probably pretty cold, why don't you put this on a minute. I'll get you a blanket."

Sam was in a daze. Since they had arrived, he simply stared at the ground, trying to will the pain away and focus on his breathing.

"Sam?" Dean asked, holding up the blue-spotted hospital gown.

Sam placed his arms out and Dean pulled the gown on, tying only one of the ties on the back of his brother's neck.

Katie came back moments later with a warm blanket and handed it to Sam. He didn't lie down; instead he draped it across his lap and sat waiting for the next step.

A few seconds later, Bobby walked in.

"Hey, Sam, how're ya feeling?"

"Fine," Sam said, shrugging his shoulders and suddenly wished he hadn't as he felt the shock of pain travel through his muscles.

Bobby looked at him sadly. The boy looked anything but fine. He looked exhausted, frustrated, and in pain. He took a seat off to the side to make sure he stayed out of the doctor's way.

Laura reappeared in front of Sam and tried to give him her best smile. "Let's get you fixed up." Turning to Katie, she gave a quick rundown of all the things she needed. "Let's get a BP, a blood sample, check his temp, and I want to check his O2 saturation."

Katie tried to be as gentle as possible as she carried out the doctor's orders.

"Can you tell me everything that happened?" Laura asked, trying to keep Sam's mind off of what the nurse was doing.

Sam took a deep breath while Dean looked on apprehensively. "Dean told you about my arm, she pretty much just cut out part of my muscle and then stitched it up. Then she said she wanted to harvest my stem cells. She injected me with this stuff, I don't remember what she said it was, but it burned."

Laura looked at him, puzzled. "Harvest your stem cells? Directly from your blood probably. Was it Neupogen? Or maybe Filgrastim?"

"Filgrastim, that's what she said it was," Dean said with certainty. "She said she wanted to give him two weeks' worth so she wouldn't have to wait long to harvest them."

"BP's 140 over 92," Katie said, removing the cuff from Sam's right arm. "Can I have one of your fingers please?" she asked Sam gently, taking his hand in hers. She looked down and noticed one of his fingers taking on a purple hue. "We're gonna need a splint for this finger."

Laura's face took on a very serious tone. "Sam, this is extremely important. Are you having any stomach pain? Or pain in your left shoulder?"

Sam and Dean both looked confused. Sam tried to ignore the pain in his bicep and listen to the rest of his body. "No, I don't think so."

"If you start to feel any pain or if anything changes, let someone know immediately. One side effect of Filgrastim is splenic rupture. It can be very dangerous. Since you're stable right now, I'm going to get you scheduled for a CT scan, but if you start to feel pain, we need to know right away. Could you lie back for a moment?"

Sam shifted uneasily before lying back on the gurney and letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

Dr. Thorpe recognized how fragile the situation was and kept her movements slow. "I'm just going to examine the area around your spleen. Let me know if it hurts at all."

She pulled Sam's hospital gown up to the middle of his chest and gently placed her hands just under his ribcage on his left side. Sam's muscles involuntarily tensed under her touch.

"Does that hurt?"

Sam shook his head. "No, sorry, I'm just…" He wasn't sure how to finish the sentence.

Laura looked at him and smiled. "It's okay, I understand." She only had a small glimpse of what happened to Sam while he was captured, but it didn't surprise her at all that he would be apprehensive about her touching him.

She continued to press gently on different areas of his stomach, while Sam tried to regulate his breathing.

"This doesn't hurt at all?"

Sam shook his head. "No, I'm just kind of nauseous."

"Okay, like I said, if it starts to hurt, let someone know. Your spleen does feel a little enlarged so I'm going to get you over to CT as soon as possible. Are you allergic to any medications?"

Sam shook his head.

Laura turned to address Katie. "Let's get him started on a saline drip and a dose of Compazine for the nausea. See if you can get his arm re-stitched before they take him to CT." Katie nodded and left the room to gather what she needed.

"Try to get some rest, Sam," Dr. Thorpe said, softly.

Sam tried to relax and close his eyes. Dean gently squeezed his brother's shoulder and breathed a much-needed sigh of relief. His brother was finally in good hands. He was going to be okay. He had to be okay.

Katie returned a few moments later to get Sam's IV line set up.

"Let's get you going here. I'm going to use the same line to take the blood sample so hopefully I'll only have to poke you once."

Sam nodded and gave her his right arm.

After putting on a pair of latex gloves, she tied a tourniquet tightly around Sam's arm, just above his elbow. Sam grimaced at the pain the stretched piece of rubber induced when placed just above the area of irritated skin.

Dean approached Sam's left side and gently took his hand in his. Sam knew he shouldn't need his hand held, but he didn't let go. The truth was, it felt good having Dean there for him.

"Big poke here," Katie said, pushing the needle into a large vein that traveled down Sam's forearm.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, remembering how it felt when Ginny had injected him with that awful drug.

Katie attached a tube and drew the blood sample first. Once she was finished, she set the tube aside and hooked up the bag of saline. Finally, she cleaned a port on the IV line and injected the Compazine.

"You should start feeling better real soon. Dean, why don't we get you checked out?" Katie said, pulling her gloves off and throwing them in the trash.

"No, it's okay. She didn't have the chance to do anything to me. I'm fine." Dean never looked up from his brother. He was determined to stay at his side.

"When is the last time you ate or drank anything?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Yesterday sometime."

"You need to eat something. There's a cafeteria just down the hall. Your brother is in good hands."

"No, I'm not hungry. Thanks though."

"Just go get something to eat, ya idjit," Bobby said sternly. "I'll be here with Sam, nothing will happen to 'im."

Dean looked at Bobby, frustrated. Bobby countered with an equally icy stare.

"You'll come get me if anything happens?"

"Of course I will. Now go eat somethin'."

Dean looked uneasily at his brother. "Sam, I don't want to get an ass whooping from Bobby over here so I'm gonna grab a bite to eat, I'll be back in ten minutes flat. Don't go hitting on any nurses, though. I can't have you upstaging me when I don't even have a chance to compete."

Sam opened his eyes and smiled. "Whatever you say, stud."


	15. No Trouble

AN: Alright, here's chapter 15! I'm sad to say that this story is working its way to a close. I think we're looking at another two or three chapters after this one.

That being said, I really appreciate all the kind words that have been passed along since the last chapter. There's nothing better than putting your work out there and getting helpful feedback.

So anyway, I hope you enjoy and I can't wait to hear your thoughts!

For warnings or disclaimer, please see Chapter 1.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 15: No Trouble<strong>

Dean had never eaten so fast in his entire life. Every second he spent away from his brother felt like an eternity. As he wolfed down his food, he wondered how he was able to leave Sam on the side of the road that spring on the way to Indiana. Sam had grown immensely since then, both physically and mentally, but he was still vulnerable. Dean recognized that now more than ever. If there was one thing scarier than going to hell, it was leaving Sam behind to fend for himself.

Dean walked back into the ER just under ten minutes after leaving and ran into Sam's doctor.

"Doctor Thorpe?" he asked, glancing around.

She stopped what she was doing and smiled up at him. "Yes, Dean, what can I help you with?"

"How is everyone else doing? I haven't seen them anywhere."

She smiled at his empathy. "I'm not handling their cases, but it looks like they're all going to be fine. Nothing too serious was done to any of them. The teens' parents have been called and should be here shortly if they aren't already here."

Dean nodded. At least he could be thankful for that. As Dean walked back into Sam's room, he was relieved to find his brother resting comfortably, a newly placed splint on his recently broken finger and a pristine white bandage over the area Ginny had cut into on his arm.

Bobby looked up as soon as he arrived. "Geez, boy, did you even taste that food?"

"Not really," Dean replied sheepishly, taking the empty chair and placing it next to Sam's bed. "How's he doing?"

"Great," Sam mumbled sleepily.

"Got you some feel-good drugs, didn't they Sammich?" Dean asked, smiling and patting his brother's thigh.

"Don' call me that," Sam replied, his head lolling towards the side Dean was sitting on. Dean smiled back, knowing how much Sam had always hated that nickname or any nickname for that matter. 'Sammy' seemed to be as far as he would allow the name calling to go.

A few seconds went by in silence. Dean kept his eye trained on the oxygen saturation number on the monitor above his brother's head while still glancing at Sam's face to watch out for signs of pain.

Dean's attention was pulled for just a moment as he heard footsteps traveling down the hallway and stopping in Sam's doorway.

"Agent Willis?"

Bobby looked up and met eyes with the visitor. "Sheriff Meyers. I'm glad you were able to make it here so quickly."

"What happened? And do you know these boys? I called the DNR and they said they'd never heard of either one of you."

Dean looked up alarmingly, under the assumption that their cover had been blown. He couldn't tell if the guy was angry, confused, or both.

"These are two of my bonehead agents. Apparently, someone from your department wasn't cooperating with our agents' questions so these two decided they would go in undercover. It was apparently too much for them to handle."

Dean breathed a short sigh of relief, thankful that Bobby took over the explanation. That man could cook up a story like no one else.

"So what the hell happened?" Steve asked, still trying to wrap his head around everything.

Dean decided he not only owed the sheriff an explanation, but Bobby as well. "While we were investigating the disappearances, we heard about the Melonhead legend and Vanessa's story and wanted to know if it had any merit. We found out that William Crowe's original house was still standing so we went and interviewed the home's current owner, Virginia Cavenaugh."

"And she was making those things kidnap people?" The sheriff sounded like he couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. It was a normal reaction that they had received countless times.

Dean shrugged and nodded. "She was bent out of shape because some college wasn't interested in what she had to offer so she decided to do her own experiments."

"So how did you two get wrapped up in all of this?"

"We went to check the place out and she got the jump on us before we could get too far past the door. She threw us in cages and decided to use him as a lab rat," Dean said, motioning to his sick brother.

"I got there just in time to help finish off those little bastards," Bobby finished, hoping it would be enough to satisfy the man.

"My men arrested her as soon as they got on scene." Steve looked at the floor like he wanted to say something. A few seconds went by before he finally met eyes with Bobby again. "Thanks …. uh …. thanks for um….ya know….taking care of this, agent."

Bobby nodded slightly. With a thankless job, you had to take every bit of gratification you could get, even if it seemed a little forced.

Just then, Sam curled in on himself and threw his arms across is abdomen. He groaned in pain, his face scrunching up tightly.

"Sammy!" Dean jumped up. "What's wrong? Is it your stomach?"

Sam nodded wordlessly as Bobby ran to find his doctor.

"Hold on, Sammy. We're gonna get you some help," Dean said, placing a reassuring hand on Sam's shoulder.

Dr. Thorpe came bounding in a few seconds later with Katie in her tow. "What happened?"

"I –I don't know. His stomach started hurting out of nowhere," Dean stuttered, never taking his eyes off of his brother.

"Sam, where does it hurt and how bad?" she asked, leaning down and looking into his eyes, attempting to capture his attention.

Sam tried to lean back and take a deep breath. He had to get past his fear that pulling his hands away from his body would make the pain worse. He slowly lifted his right arm up and dragged his left hand into the space directly below his rib cage on his left side. "I thought I was just nauseous. It started to hurt just a little bit ago and then I just felt this awful stabbing pain."

"Sam, why didn't you say anything?" Dean asked, alarmed that this could be the danger the doctor spoke about earlier.

"I barely noticed it. I didn't think it was that bad. M' sorry."

"BP is low, 80 over 50," Katie said, taking the blood pressure cuff off.

"Can I have a look?" Dr. Thorpe asked, sure to wait for a response before touching him. After what happened last time, she wanted to make sure she didn't startle Sam.

He nodded as she placed her hands just above where he said the pain was emanating from. Sam forced his arms down to his sides, but gripped the sheet on the bed to combat the pain he was sure was about to arrive.

She pressed gently in the space beneath his ribs, trying to avoid causing too much pain. Sam responded with a quick gasp and tried to push her hands away.

"Sorry, Sam. I'm done pushing," she said apologetically. "Did you take a hit to the stomach at all recently?"

Sam thought back to the fight in the Cavenaugh basement. "Yeah, I think so. I mean, it barely hit me though."

"Doc, can't you give him something for the pain?" Dean asked, with an almost pleading tone.

"I'm sorry, I can't do that. You brother's blood pressure is a little on the low side. Giving him any sort of pain medication could increase the severity and be very dangerous for him."

"So what's wrong with him?"

"It's looking like Sam's spleen has ruptured." Laura turned to Katie for a brief moment. "Prep him for a DPL."

"Wait, a D-P-what?" Dean didn't like how everything was occurring in rapid succession. He could barely keep up. Whoever said this stuff happened in slow motion was lying out of their ass.

"It's a Diagnostic Peritoneal Lavage. We don't have time to do a CT scan anymore so the DPL will tell us whether he's bleeding into his abdomen and how much. Sam, I'm going to explain very quickly what's going to happen next, so try to stay with me, okay?"

She waited for the slight nod from Sam before continuing. "First, I'm going to make a tiny cut into your stomach and insert a hollow needle. I'll use that to place the guide wire. Then I'm going to pull out the needle and then thread a catheter over the wire. Last, I'm going to pull out the wire and sample the fluid and see if there's blood present. I will numb you first so you won't feel anything. But the important thing is that you stay still during the entire procedure."

Sam nodded his understanding but felt uneasy. Dean picked up on his brother's anxiety and gave his hand a quick squeeze.

Katie approached Sam's bed while Laura grabbed the materials she would need for the lavage. "Sam, we have to place an NG tube and a Foley catheter before we can do the test, okay? Your bladder and stomach need to be decompressed to make sure we don't get a false positive."

Sam looked mortified. He didn't want to deal with doctors or tubes or tests. He just wanted the pain to stop. Bobby politely stood up and moved behind the curtain to give Sam some needed privacy.

"Sam, do you want me to leave?" Dean asked softly, not wanting to steal any of his brother's dignity.

"No, stay," Sam replied firmly.

Dean was slightly relieved that his brother hadn't asked him to leave. He remembered that night at Cold Oak, holding Sam in his arms as he breathed his last breath. He couldn't handle being away from him right now.

Katie brought the head of Sam's bed up a little more and sat a cup of water with a straw on the bedside table. "I'm going to put the NG tube in first. It's going to run from your nose down to your stomach. When I start putting the tube in, I want you to take a few sips of water. It will help it go down easier."

Sam nodded and took a deep breath. Dr. Thorpe, in the interest of the time limit, assisted Katie in measuring the length of the tube and preparing for its insertion.

Sam choked down the NG tube as well as he could with the pain radiating through his midsection. Dean stayed at his side and squeezed his hand for reassurance.

Once they were sure the tube was in the correct place, Katie and the doctor quickly moved to placing the Foley catheter. Sam's cheeks reddened at having his brother in the room for the procedure, but he knew it was a lot better than being alone. After the ten minutes of added agony, Sam began to wonder if he was ever going to feel relief.

"Okay Sam, I'm going to inject the Lidocaine and start the DPL," Laura said, covering a portion of Sam's stomach in the same orange-tinted Betadine that Ginny had used.

Dean stayed perched at Sam's right side and held his hand. "Hey Sammy, you think Ginny's enjoying her time in the jail cell?"

Sam smiled and then grimaced in pain as he felt the needle press into his stomach and the burning drug injected.

"Okay, Sam, I'm going to start. The cut is only about five millimeters; you won't feel any extra pain, so just try and relax for me."

Sam stared intently at the white, stucco ceiling tiles, not wanting to think about what was happening outside of his line of sight. A couple of minutes went by in silence, with the exception of Dr. Thorpe asking Katie to hand her a few items off of the procedure tray.

Dean watched as the doctor attached a syringe to the end of the catheter and pulled back the plunger. His heart sank to his stomach as he saw the deep, crimson liquid pulled up from his brother's stomach.

"That's 10mls. It's positive," she said quickly before flushing the catheter out with saline and removing it.

"So what does that mean?" Dean asked, alarmed.

"We're going to take him to the OR and see how big the tear is. Our first line of defense is to repair the tear. If the tear is too large, we can do a partial splenectomy and take only the damaged section. If we absolutely can't fix it, we'll do a total Splenectomy."

"If you have to take it out, will he be okay? Is that something he can live with?" Bobby asked, appearing from behind the curtain and startling Dean, who had nearly forgotten he was in the room.

"Yes, absolutely. He may be slightly more susceptible to disease, but it won't be life-threatening." Laura covered the small cut she had made with a sterile bandage and threw her gloves away.

Katie appeared back in the room, not that Dean even noticed she was gone. When there was something wrong with Sam, everything else took a back seat.

"They're getting an OR ready for him. We can take him up."

"Can I go with him? At least upstairs?" Dean asked, not ready to let go of his brother's hand.

Laura didn't want to waste any time, and knew there was no way the concerned protector would take 'no' for an answer. "Yeah, that's fine. Let's get him upstairs."

Dean talked to Sam the entire way. When they reached the double doors that read 'authorized personnel only', Dean knew it was time to let go.

"You don't give those doctors any trouble, got it Sam?" Dean said, rubbing his hand through Sam's long, dark hair.

"No trouble, I promise." Sam looked at Dean, with no fear in his eyes whatsoever. And Dean was damn proud of him.

"We'll be here when you wake up, Sam," Bobby offered with a smile.

Dean stood back with his substitute father and had to fight back tears. He just didn't like the idea of his brother's life being in a stranger's hands. He was the one to take care of him when he was sick, give him stiches when he was hurt, and tease him to make him feel better. Not having control over a situation was one of the worst feelings in the world, and Dean could sure as hell attest to that.

After Sam had been taken in, Bobby and Dean went to check in with Adams and see how the rest of the gang was doing. They were happy to find out that Eric had been moved into a room with his wife and that his twin sons would be up to see him very soon. The teens would be held for the night for observation but it was looking like everyone was going to be alright. Once they were sure things were taken care of, Dean and Bobby each took a seat in the OR waiting room to begin the horribly nerve-wracking task of waiting for Sam to come out of surgery.


	16. He's My Brother

AN: Sorry guys, this is another one of those weird shorter chapters. You'll see why I had to end it where I did once you finish reading it. That's just the way things work out sometimes. A BIG thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter; I very much enjoy reading your thoughts! Also, thanks to the new readers that have added this to their various lists! Welcome, glad to have you on board.

Okay then, that's about enough from me. Hope you all enjoy and thanks again for reviewing!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 16: He's My Brother<strong>

The chairs in the OR waiting room were the most uncomfortable things Dean had ever sat in. He would sit down, adjust himself, stand up, pace, and sit back down. After all that, he would repeat the process, standing up only a few seconds later. His nerves were frayed from his constant worrying. They had been waiting for what felt like forever and he was on edge.

His movements mirrored movements made by others waiting in the same area. Everyone seemed to be restless.

"Boy, you are gonna give yourself a heart attack if you don't relax," Bobby said, looking up at Dean from his seat.

"At least we're in a hospital," Dean replied almost automatically. He sat down in the seat next to Bobby and picked up an old issue of TIME Magazine from the small table. He flipped through it absentmindedly, not reading a single word. Each minute that passed was agonizing. He glanced up at the others, some of who seemed to be in the same state of panic as he was.

The door at the end of the hallway opened and every single person looked up, hoping for news of their loved ones.

"Family of Joseph Elison?"

A woman stood up quickly and grasped the hand of her son, pulling him from the play area, and rushed toward the nurse. They disappeared into one of the private consultation rooms as Dean, and everyone else, went back to worrying.

"He's gonna be alright, Dean," Bobby said finally after watching Dean abandon the TIME magazine and stand up and pace in front of him for the hundredth time.

"You don't know that Bobby. God, I should have known better than to go in there without enough backup. We had no clue what we were up against."

"Don't start that, you idjit!" Bobby said harshly. A few of the other family members looked up, eager for something to watch to take their minds off of everything. Bobby picked up on the unwanted attention and lowered his voice. "This isn't your fault. The last thing you should be doing is blaming yourself. You're hunters and you do what needs to get done. Shit happens, Dean. Hell, you've almost died a few times yourself. You can't plan for everything. You couldn't have known that those things were gonna get the jump on you like they did. Sam needs you to be strong right now. He wouldn't want you to sit there wallowin' in your own damn self-pity."

Dean wanted to argue, but he knew there was no sense in it. As much has he didn't want to admit it, Bobby was right. He needed to be thinking about taking care of Sam now, not changing the past.

Dean sat down again and tapped his index finger on his knee.

Bobby lowered his voice further and began to talk to Dean to keep his mind off of his brother. "I might have a lead on Bela."

"What is it?"

"Another hunter friend of mine said she's been chasing after the Crocea Mors."

"The what?"

"Didn't pay much attention in school, did ya kid?"

Dean stared at him blankly.

"It's the name given to Julius Caesar's sword. It was supposed to have been buried with the British prince who acquired it but someone in the black market got a hold of it. Bela has been over in England trying to make a deal for it. She's gonna bring it back to the states and sell it to the highest bidder. My friend thinks he can tie her down with a fake offer. We'll be able to intersect and hopefully get the Colt back."

"That's great, but what if she already sold it? I wouldn't put it past the bitch to take the first offer she gets."

"That's the thing that just doesn't seem right. I haven't heard anything at all that points towards her even attempting to make a deal with it. I don't have a clue as to why she hasn't pawned it off yet, but I don't really give a damn either. Makes our job easier."

A nurse opened the door and looked out into the room full of distraught family members. "Family of Samuel Schultz?"

Dean stood up immediately, recognizing the fake name they had given to Sam for this particular hospital stay. The nurse led them to another vacated private consultation room.

"The surgeon will be out in just a few moments to speak with you," she said pleasantly, turning on the dim lighting and closing the door behind her.

If Dean thought being in the waiting room was bad, this was undoubtedly much worse. Was the news so bad that they had to be consulted with privately? Why couldn't they just take him to see Sam?

Dean's knee bounced up and down in a quiet frenzy. Bobby was just about to tell him to cut it out when there was a loud knock on the solid wooden door. Dean jumped involuntarily.

The man who walked in was tall and rather lanky. It was clear he'd been a surgeon for a very long time, though the wrinkles etched into his face seemed to be more from stress than from age. His knitted brow seemed to have become a permanent feature.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Whitman. I operated on Samuel this afternoon."

"Sam," Dean interjected rather awkwardly. "He likes to be called Sam."

"Right, Sam," he said, nodding his head. "Sam was bleeding quite a bit by the time I got to him, but the tear wasn't too bad. The drug he was given greatly reduced the strength of the lining of his spleen as well as increased its size which is what caused it to rupture so easily. I opted to use the laparoscopy technique so we only had to make a few small incisions. The biggest issue was trying to repair the tear with the blood blocking us from getting a clear view. We ended up taking a very small section of his spleen. We sutured off the area and the bleeding became manageable."

"So how long before his spleen goes back to normal?" Dean asked, greatly concerned. "It seemed like it ruptured really easy the first time."

"It's hard to say. The lining should begin to repair and strengthen itself in a few days' time. As for the size of his spleen, that could take up two months. He just needs to be very careful to avoid putting extra stress on his spleen. No contact sports, nothing that could add extra trauma. The hit he took is what caused the rupture so he just needs to stay away from fighting for a while."

"No worries there, doc. Sam isn't gonna be within a mile of any fights. But he's okay? I mean, he's going to be fine, right?"

"Yes, Sam will be just fine. He's going to need to take it easy. He'll probably be in pain from the effects of that injection he was given as well as the surgery so the more rest, the better. Because we did a partial splenectomy, we're going to give him some post-op vaccinations once he's in recovery. They'll make sure he isn't vulnerable to any bacteria while he's in the healing process."

Dean felt an immense weight, which he hadn't realized he'd been carrying, lift off his shoulders. "When can I see him?"

"He's in Post-Op right now. We're just monitoring him as he comes out of the anesthesia. Once he's awake, we'll get him moved to a recovery room and a nurse will grab you from the waiting room and bring you to him after he's all set."

Dean nodded and swallowed thickly. He watched the man leave and sighed again, thrilled that Sam seemed to be out of the woods for the time being. After a few seconds of silence, Bobby stood up and led the way back out to the waiting room. Finally feeling okay about Sam, Dean surrendered and sat down in one of the chairs with the half inch of padding.

Finally a nurse came out to bring Dean and Bobby to see Sam. Dean was elated. The time away from Sam was agonizing.

They were led through the double doors to an area that looked much like the ER. The nurses' station was buzzing with activity and there were fifteen or so rooms encircling it. Dean and Bobby followed closely behind as the nurse stopped outside the door of room 414.

Dean walked in first and pulled an empty chair up to Sam's bedside. His eyes were closed and he looked more comfortable than he had before he went off to surgery. The NG tube snaked across his cheek and behind his ear.

Sensing someone new beside him, Sam forced his eyes open, still trying to fight off the effects of the anesthesia.

"Hey, Sammy. How're you feelin'?"

Dean's excitement was a little too much for Sam's exhausted body. "Tired."

"Yeah, you look it. Hey guess what? The doc said you're gonna be fine. Guess I'm stuck with you for a while longer, huh?"

"Damn straight," Sam replied smiling.

"Good ta see you awake, Sam," Bobby said approaching the other side of his bed.

"Thanks for the rescue, Bobby. We owe you."

"Eh, no big deal. I'll catch it on the flip side." He thought for a moment and then laughed. "Actually, you can repay me by being more careful next time, huh?"

"You got it, Bobby," Dean replied.

"If you guys don't mind, I'd like to go back to sleep," Sam said yawning.

"Get yer rest, kid." Bobby patted him on the arm and turned to Dean. "I'm gonna go catch up with Adams. He's probably gonna want to head home soon. I'll be back in a little bit."

Dean nodded and slouched down in the chair. He could use some sleep as well. Unable to get comfortable, he sat back up and tried leaning his head on his hand. Then he tried turning to one side. Finally, after checking to make sure Sam was asleep, he scooted the chair up and placed his head on the bed beside Sam's leg. He was asleep within seconds.


	17. Get Well Soon

AN: Well, here's the second to last chapter. I just want everyone to know how much I truly value your comments. A lot of them are thought provoking and will certainly be influencing my writing in the future.

I considered reorganizing and adding a little to this chapter before posting, but I'm just too exhausted tonight. It's been kind of an awful weekend and I've got a really long week ahead of me. Hopefully you find this chapter as engaging as I intended it to be, even without the changes. On the upside, it is a slightly longer one :) So please enjoy and let me know your thoughts.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 17: Get Well Soon<strong>

Dean woke up to the sound of someone in Sam's room. He sucked in a breath of air and sat up quickly, wiping the drool off his cheek.

"Sorry, kid. Didn't mean to wake you."

Dean looked up and saw Bobby taking a seat in the remaining empty chair. "Wasn't sleepin'."

"Whatever you say, princess. You looked quite comfortable there next to yer brother."

"You didn't see anything," Dean insisted.

"If you say so," Bobby replied with a laugh.

"What's goin' on?" a very sleepy Sam mumbled from his hospital bed.

"Your brother was-"

"Nothing, Sam. Nothing's goin' on," Dean interrupted before Bobby's statement could go any further.

"Come on, let the kid in on it. It was cute."

"No. Dean Winchester does not do 'cute'."

Sam continued to stare on in sleepy confusion until a nurse walked in. She was older than any of the nurses they had seen so far but she had a gentle nature that Sam could sense the minute she came in.

"Hey sweetie, I'm Mary. How are you feeling?"

Sam took an extra second to answer. Any woman with the same name of his mother stirred something in the pit of his stomach, though he was never really sure what it was. "Pretty good."

"Any nausea?"

Sam shook his head, pleased to finally have some relief after everything he had been through.

"And how's your pain?"

Sam sat for a moment before shaking his head again. "Nearly nonexistent."

"That's fantastic. I need to check your vitals quick a minute. If they look good enough, we can get you moved into a regular room. How's that sound?"

"Good, definitely good," Sam said, sitting up as much as the partially reclined bed would allow.

The nurse grabbed the blood pressure cuff and wrapped it around his arm. She made quick work of taking the reading and marking in on his chart. A thermometer was placed in Sam's mouth and she took the spare moment to write a few other things. The thermometer beeped and she quickly discarded the cover and returned it to its place on the wall.

"Everything looks great. I'll have someone work on getting a bed ready for you down on the second floor. Do you need anything before I leave?"

Sam was about to say 'no' before he realized the slight discomfort he had been ignoring. "Any chance I'll be able to get these tubes out of me?"

"Well, the NG tube we try to keep in for anywhere from 24 to 48 hours after surgery. Removing the Foley is up to your doctor. I'll make a note on your chart so once we get you squared away in a permanent room, the doctor in charge of your recovery can take a look."

Sam sighed in disappointment but nodded his head in understanding. On the upside, he was feeling better so he didn't have too much to complain about.

"No big, huh Sammy? You're feeling better after all, right?"

Sam smiled. Dean the amazing mind reader. Never fails.

Mary smiled at the brothers and left, carrying Sam's chart with her.

Things calmed down considerably after that. Sam was comfortable and Dean was happy now that Sam was okay. Bobby left to give Adams a ride back to his car so he could return home, and stopped to grab a shower at the boys' motel room on his way back.

Sam was moved to his new room on the second floor around nine-o-clock that night and shortly after, a doctor came in. She was young and a little on the heavy side. Her blonde hair was braided and her smile was the type that lit up her eyes considerably.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Slatin. I'm going to be your doctor throughout parts of your recovery. How are you doing?"

"Alright," Sam replied. The amount of people he was meeting was starting to make his head hurt. He had no hopes of keeping track of all of them.

"How's your pain?"

"Um, it's okay," he replied, starting to feel sleepy.

"Scale of one to ten?"

"Four or five?"

"How about we get you another dose of Toradol? That should last you through the night."

"No, I'm fine for now."

"Sam," Dean said in his 'warning tone'. "Just take the meds. "

Sam rolled his eyes. There goes Dean in his 'big brother mode'. Typical. He knew there was no sense in arguing with him. "Okay."

Dr. Slatin chuckled a little. "I'll have your nurse bring that in. A nurse in surgical said you were asking about the tubes? I'd like to give it a little time to make sure your gastrointestinal tract is returning to normal. We're going to start you on a bland diet tomorrow morning. We'll see how you handle that and then we can talk about removing the NG tube. The Foley can probably come out tomorrow. One of the other attendings will be taking over for me in the morning. I'll make sure they know to evaluate you tomorrow afternoon."

"Okay, thanks doc," Sam replied. He could handle that. He would soon be asleep for the night anyway.

A few minutes after Dr. Slatin left, a nurse came in carrying a syringe with a clear liquid.

"Hey, I'm Emma; I'll be your nurse for the night shift. I need to check your blood pressure and temperature."

She was quick about checking both readings and made sure to only disturb Sam when she needed to. She checked his hospital bracelet and injected the Toradol into one of Sam's IV ports before disposing of her gloves.

"Anything else I can get you before I take off?"

Sam shook his head.

"Alright, push the call button if you need anything."

Dean was happy to see his brother getting such good care. It was a big difference from some of the bigger hospitals they had been forced to visit in the past.

Once the Toradol took effect, Sam fell into a deep, restful sleep. Dean began nodding off around midnight, which wasn't surprising; he hadn't gotten much sleep the night before.

"Why don't we head back to the motel room and get some sleep?" Bobby suggested after watching Dean's head snap up for the fourth time.

"Nah, I'm fine here."

"Come on, kid. You can't sleep sitting up."

"I'm not leaving Sam."

"He's in good hands, Dean. The doctors are takin' good care of him. You need to sleep in a bed. Your body needs rest too."

"No. I don't want Sam waking up without me here."

"Boy, you are more stubborn than your daddy, you know that?"

"How's that saying go? The, uh, thing that doesn't land far from the, uh, other thing?"

"Apple doesn't fall far from the tree," Bobby said nodding his head, "yeah, I get it."

Dean moved to the single padded chair in Sam's room and reclined it back just to prove his point. A few minutes later, Dean was out again. Bobby went out to the nurses' station to talk to Emma. He returned with a blanket which he laid across Dean before heading to the motel room to get some much needed sleep.

There was a break in the clouds the next morning which allowed the sun to shine brightly into Sam's hospital room. The rays pieced Dean's eyelids and forced them open. He squinted at the clock to see that it was nearing 7:30am. He stretched his arms and cracked his neck trying to get rid of the stiffness that had descended upon his body overnight. Bobby might have had a point about sleeping in a real bed, but he could handle a little discomfort for the sake of staying near his brother.

Speaking of Sam, he looked over at the gargantuan form still lying in the bed next to him. Sam was fast asleep and breathing deeply. It was a happy sight.

After about fifteen minutes of silence, Emma came in. She held her hands under the automatic hand sanitizer dispenser and greeted Dean with a big smile.

"Hey, how's it going in here?" she said, keeping her voice down a little to avoid waking Sam up prematurely.

"Good, I guess."

"You both seemed to be sleeping well. I came by a few times last night and neither of you woke up once."

"We definitely needed it."

She walked over to Sam's bedside and placed her hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him awake. "Sam, I need to check your vitals again. Could you wake up for me for just a few minutes?"

Sam moaned. He was in no mood to be pulled from his peaceful sleep.

"Come on, Sleeping Beauty," Dean said, shaking Sam's other shoulder. "Time to get up."

"Don' call me that."

Sam reluctantly opened his eyes and sat up a little to make things easier for Emma. She gathered the required information and checked Sam's pain level which was lower than the night before. He seemed to be healing quickly.

A little while after Emma stopped by, another girl who looked around high school age entered the room. "Are you Samuel Schultz?"

Sam nodded in her direction and she responded by taking a plastic tray off her cart and setting it on the bedside table. "Enjoy your breakfast," she said before pushing the cart out of Sam's room and down the hallway.

The smell was rather nauseating. Sam adjusted himself and laid his head back down on the pillow. He hadn't slept as peacefully as everyone had thought.

"What's the matter, Sam? I thought you were feeling better."

"I am. It's just... we need to get out of here soon, Dean."

"Hold your horses, Sammy. You just had part of your spleen taken out. I think we can afford some downtime."

Sam was hesitant to tell Dean about the things he had seen while he was sleeping. Apparently, the break from the dreams was only meant to be short-lived. "They're going to catch on to the insurance fraud soon."

"Nah, I've got it covered. We should have at least two weeks before anything catches up to us." Dean knew he wasn't exactly getting through to Sam. "Let's at least wait and see what the doctor has to say. Then we'll talk." Dean looked down at the food (if you could call it that) sitting on Sam's tray and smirked. "Now eat your breakfast, it's getting cold."

"Ugh."

"Hey, you wanna show the doc that you're gettin' better, right?"

Sam choked down as much of the bland meal as he could. Luckily, he was able to keep it down. Chalk one up for the good guys.

When ten-o-clock rolled around that morning, Bobby returned, along with some diner food from downtown.

"Oh, yeah. Now you're talking, Bobby."

Sam looked at the food longingly and Dean noticed. "Sorry little brother. I'll … uh … I'll eat this later."

"Wow Dean, never thought you'd turn down food," Bobby said with a chuckle.

"Well, sometimes other things are more important."

"Dean, you don't have to –"

"Nonsense, Sammy. I can wait a little bit. Not to mention, after watching you eat that crap a little bit ago, I think I've lost my appetite."

Sam replied with an eye roll and Dean smiled. If there was one activity he loved more than hunting or driving his Impala, it was tormenting his brother.

There was a light knock at the door before a tall, dark haired man walked in.

"Hey Sam, I'm Dr. Steele. How are things going today?"

"Good, really good," Sam replied, trying his best to become the picture of good health.

"That's great to hear. Your post-op blood work came back good so things are looking up from that end. How's your pain?"

"Zero. No pain at all."

Dean shot Sam a look. He knew he had to be lying at least a little bit, but he hoped it wasn't by much.

"Really? Well good then. It looks like your last dose of pain meds was last night. You'll probably need another one by this afternoon, but we'll work on bringing your dosage down. How's your stomach feeling? I see you were able to eat most of your breakfast. Any nausea?"

"Nope."

"Mind if I check your incisions?"

Sam shook his head and laid back on the bed.

Dr. Steele pulled up his hospital gown and carefully peeled back the bandages. A few moments went by in silence as he checked each incision and then checked the area around Sam's spleen.

"Everything is looking really good," he said pleasantly.

"So, what are my chances at getting these tubes out?" Sam asked, a tinge of hope in his voice.

"Well, I'd like to give it a while longer to make sure you're able to digest food properly. I'll check in on you again later tonight. If things are still good, I can take the NG tube out. As for the Foley, we can probably take that now. Make sure you let a nurse know if you experience any pain when you use the restroom though."

"No problem." Sam tried not to seem too excited, but he was ecstatic. "How long do you think I'll have to stay in the hospital?"

"You're probably looking at six more days at least. Because of the surgery you've just had, your immunosuppressed. We need to give your immune system time to rebuild. Once that happens, we're going to give you a series of three different vaccinations. They will protect you from the three different diseases you're most vulnerable to."

Sam didn't respond at first. Trying not to let the awkward silence continue for much longer, Dean jumped in. "That's good ... That's good, right Sammy?"

"Yeah, absolutely. Thanks, doc."

"No problem. It looks like your nurse is Tammy today. I'll have her come in and remove the Foley here in just a little bit. Do you have any other questions for me?"

"No, I don't think so. Thanks again."

Dr. Steele nodded and shook hands with Dean, Sam, and Bobby. "Just let Tammy know if you need anything."


	18. The Trouble With Freedom

AN: Alright everyone. Here's the very last chapter. I figured I'd post it a day early due to being completely overwhelmed by the fact I have two research papers due before I leave for Texas for a short vacation. Lots to get done, not a ton of time = early updates! :)

I want to thank everyone for sticking it out with me and giving me numerous amounts of invaluable feedback. I'd especially like to thank twomom, SPN Mum, LeighAnnWallace, RogueStorm84, Kirabaros, scootersmom, Sjoeks, dannidoodles, TurningDarkside13, Souless666, Chostani-san128, those that added this to alert and favorite lists, and anyone else that I may have missed that joined me on this journey.

On a side note, Supernatural was good last night, but honestly, I felt it left something to be desired. Maybe that's just because I prefer my boys deep fried in angst and bread crumbs, but I just thought things were tied up a little too easily. Oh well. TPTB always have a plan. Maybe it will come back to bite the boys in the ass. I mean, I'm glad they're not fighting anymore; I don't like them apart. But I was hoping for a little more knock down-drag out before the 'I don't even know why we were fighting' mentality.

For warnings or disclaimer, please see Chapter 1.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 18: The Trouble with Freedom<strong>

The next few days went agonizingly slow for Sam and his attitude only got worse with each passing day. He was sleeping less and less each night. He didn't know anything more about his visions than he had a week ago and it was frustrating him. Dean was picking up on the trouble. Sam's mumbling in his sleep and jerky movements were dead giveaways that things were not peachy keen.

It had been a week since his surgery and Sam was irritated. He completed his fifth cycle of the television channels before giving up and turning it off.

"Going a little stir-crazy, huh Sam?" Dean said, glancing up from his brother's laptop. It took a lot of convincing, but after a few planned out, well-spoken arguments, Dean got Sam to allow him to use his laptop.

"Well, if my brother would let me have my laptop back, I probably wouldn't be so bored."

"Maybe you should try getting some sleep. You haven't been sleeping well, you know."

"I've been sleeping fine, Dean." The room went icy cold in seconds. Despite Dean's valiant tries, he couldn't get Sam to surrender any details of his dreams.

"Okay, boys, that's enough. Obviously, we're all suffering from a case of cabin fever," Bobby said, wanting to become the voice of reason. He couldn't really handle their bickering either.

"Sorry, Bobby." The collective apology was monotone, but heartfelt.

"I just want to get out of here. We need to go after Bela. We need the Colt if we're going to get Dean out of his deal."

"Whoa Sammy. Not so fast. You're going to get some rest before we go off on some wild chase," Dean said, concerned that Sam was so hell bent on being reckless with his health. "The doc said you need to rest and allow your insides to heal. We can't take a chance on you tearing your spleen again."

Sam looked at Bobby, desperate for his help.

"Sorry, kid. I have to agree with your brother. You need to take it easy. Me, as well as a lot of other hunters, have their eyes and ears out waiting for the bitch. We'll get her, but you ain't gonna be able to help Dean if you're back in the hospital. You're gonna come back to Sioux Falls with me and take it easy for a while."

"But we're losing time. Dean's deal is going to be up soon." Sam didn't want to give up on his argument. He was starting to fear that the only way they would listen to him was for him to explain the visions he'd been having, but he didn't want to go there.

Dean could tell Sam's obsession with his deal was more of an expression of fear. "Sam, no one is forgetting about my deal. Believe me, I'm not forgetting the details of my deal. It's my head on the chopping block, remember? I just want to do this the right way and that means you resting until you're well enough to fight. Come on Sammy, just let us take care of you for once."

Sam gave a frustrated sigh and laid his head back on the pillow.

There was a knock on the door and Dr. Steele walked in.

"Hey, there. How is everything going?"

"Alright. Gotta be honest though, I'm going a little crazy."

Dr. Steele chuckled. "Well, Sam, your labs are looking good so I think we can work on getting you out of here soon."

"That would be really great."

Dr. Steele pulled a sheet of paper from Sam's chart and set it on the bedside table in front of his patient.

"We're going to be giving you three vaccinations. One is a pneumococcal vaccine, another for meningitis and diphtheria, and the third is a type B flu vaccine. The first one you'll need to revaccinate in six years, the second in three to five years, and the last one is a one-time dose that you'll be getting today. Once you revaccinate for the first two, you shouldn't need to worry about being vaccinated for those again. These are just precautionary measures. Keep this paper in a safe place. It has all the information you need for post-op care as well as the vaccine information.

"I'd also like to make sure you have a follow-up appointment with a Primary Care Physician within a week. Who is your PCP?"

Sam glanced at Dean and Bobby. "I don't have one right now. But I'm going to be moving back to South Dakota after this. I'll be sure to find a doctor and make an appointment when I get there."

"Alright, that sounds like a plan. The nurse will give you the vaccinations, after that, I'd like you to hang around here for just a few more hours to make sure you don't have any side-effects. Once you're in the clear, we'll get you discharged and get you on your way home."

"Thanks for all your help, doc," Dean said, offering his hand to the man.

"Not a problem."

Dean went back to the motel to pack their things and bring Sam a fresh change of clothes. Bobby stayed with Sam at the hospital while he got his shots. Sam wanted to be mad about getting poked three more times, but he was so thrilled about leaving that he couldn't be bothered to care.

A few hours later, Sam was dressed in jeans and a button-up shirt ready to leave. He was given his discharge orders and even agreed to ride in the wheelchair out to the Impala.

"I gotta stop and get gas before we leave town," Bobby said just before climbing into his car.

"We do too. Meet you in town?" Dean closed the trunk of the Impala after dropping in Sam's bag from the hospital.

"Sure thing."

They chose an inconspicuous establishment that was sporting cheaper gas prices than the stations near the highway and filled up both Bobby's car and the Impala.

"I'm getting a soda, you want anything?" Dean asked before heading inside.

"Uh, I don't know. I'll look." Sam went to follow his brother into the convenience store but stopped short when he reached the newspaper dispenser sitting outside.

_ 'FIRE IN BERRIEN COUNTY KILLS 6'_

The breath left Sam's chest and his knees nearly gave out.

"Sammy? What's the matter?" Dean was concerned it might be his spleen again.

"I…uh…I don't think we can leave yet, Dean. There's um… something that I need to talk to you about."

TO BE CONTINUED (If Interested)

* * *

><p>AN2: So, it's just not like me to tie everything up nicely and throw a bow on the top. Call it Kripke disease, I don't know. So I know I talked to you guys about laying down a 'B story'. There's the last little tag of it. If the B story interested you, let me know. I wanted to leave this story open for a sequel just in case. But be honest. If it didn't interest you that much, please let me know. There's no sense in writing another monster of a story if it's not the type of thing you guys want to see. I write for you, so you can control the game board.<p>

Thanks again SO much. You are all incredible people and I feel honored to be part of such a wonderful family.


End file.
